


Wet

by SpookshowBabyx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 112
Words: 240,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookshowBabyx/pseuds/SpookshowBabyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have hated you, liked you, loathed you and loved you, but not once have I thought you not to be a fool." </p><p>Regina takes pity on the Sheriff when she finds her out in the storm; inviting her inside to escape its wrath. What starts as an aggressive game of sexual one-upmanship slowly evolves into something a little deeper; perhaps even a liking for one another...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N (07.03.2014): As explained in my end note for this fic, I'm going through the entire thing to try and sort out any grammar/ spelling mistakes. I will keep some of the relevant A/Ns, but will spare you all the frequent apologies for lateness and asking you to bear with me! I know this is now a finished piece, but if anyone did want to leave a review or two still, that'd be hugely appreciated :) For those of you for whom this is your first time reading this, I really hope you enjoy!
> 
> I have given up trying to tag all the characters in this fic- it touches on almost all of them introduced in the first season of the show.
> 
> All A/Ns from now on were written at the time of writing those specific chapters. (I am copying this across to AO3 from fanfiction.net, so some of the references to reviews etc might be irrelevant for which I apologise.)
> 
> A/N (10.08.2012): This is probably a bit of an odd starting point for a Once fic, given that the second season has just started, but this has been sitting unfinished on my computer for a while now and I prefer -at the moment- writing in the 'real world'.
> 
> Set during the storm.
> 
> Contains some scenes of rough play/ moderate violence, but I will put a warning in an A/N for these chapters.

"What the..."

Regina squints through the sheet of rain hammering down on the Mercedes' windshield, trying to discern the flicker of movement she's positive she'd glimpsed up ahead through the gray haze. The potential sign of life is quick to spark her curiosity, as only this morning the Sheriff's department had released a firm warning to Storybrooke's inhabitants to remain inside unless absolutely necessary; the weather report predicting the oncoming storm to be the worst in Maine's recent history.

The fact that she herself cruises through the deserted streets- at a pace no faster than if she'd been walking- is predominantly down to her increasing suspicions concerning the town's new 'stranger'; already showing promise of being just as irritating and leather-clad as their previous arrival. Driving around in the storm, she hopes to catch him at whatever his master plan may be while he is under the impression that his movements will go unnoticed. She recognises that her suspicions perhaps border a little on paranoia, but her caution has served her well in life up until now.

Deep down she supposes an _additiona_ l bonus to being out in the storm is the fact that it goes expressly against said Miss Leather-Clad Annoyance's _express_ request not to do so.

Slowing down further- despite the warning stutter the engine gives off- the Mayor leans over her steering wheel intently; dark eyes searching for the movement that originally caught her attention. A flash of lightening shocks the world silver and throws a figure up ahead into stark relief. Frowning, the Mayor coaxes the car forward in curious pursuit, rolling down the window at her side.

"What on _earth_ are you doing, Miss Swan?"

She pulls up alongside the blonde, bathing the drenched Sheriff in the glow of her headlights. Emma slows her running; doubting that determination alone will allow her to out-sprint the stately vehicle. Shielding her face from the onslaught of rain, she frowns as Regina's lips form words inaudible over the downpour. She leans forward into the warmth of the Mercedes' interior; pale face glistening with icy moisture.

" _What?!_ "

Regina rolls her eyes and resists the urge to snap at the blonde that 'pardon' is the socially appropriate response.

"I was enquiring as to your sanity, but then realized _that_ would constitute a wasted question. What on earth are you doing galavanting around in this weather?"

Green eyes roll irritably back at her, and the Mayor finds herself momentarily transfixed by the liquid beads of rain perilously suspended on Emma's lashes.

"I'm not out here for the _hell_ of it, Regina! My car broke down a mile or so down the road. I was making sure no one was _stupid_ enough to go driving around in this bitch of a storm when they needn't be..."

Emma glares at her pointedly, but the darker woman bares this blatant accusation no mind.

"Clearly this backfired on you quite spectacularly, if you will allow for the small pun. I would hazard a guess that the wreckage you call a car is not the best mode of transport to be out in this 'bitch of a storm' in."

"Yeah? Well if _someone_ hadn't cut the brakes in the cruiser..."

"I'm sure I have _no_ idea what you are insinuating, dear."

The brunette smirks, and Emma huffs irritably in response, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to warm them. Her breath is misty in the frigid air and Regina delightedly concludes she looks a very sorry state indeed.

"What are _you_ doing out here, anyway?"

"I had some business to attend to, but I believe I will head home to warm up now. Good day, Miss Swan."

Despite her farewell, the Mayor only goes so far as to begin rolling up her window, knowing full well that Emma has no choice but to beg her for help; the nearest residence being her own, and still only a little less than a mile away.

"Regina- Madame Mayor, wait!... Look... Do you think maybe you could drive me to a phone?"

"My dear, I'm afraid your expectations of our little town are _foolishly_ grand if you believe the phone lines will still be operational in this weather- I trust your cell is receiving no signal?- And besides, who are you planning to _call_? You _yourself_ administered the warning that everyone should stay inside..."

"Well, do you think you could give me a lift home, then... Please?"

"Oh, I don't think so Miss Swan, it's very much out of my way, and, as I seem to have to keep _reminding_ you, the storm could be treacherous; I don't imagine Henry would be best pleased should we both die in a car crash because you were too dim-witted to rethink driving your ridiculous bug around town."

"Oh, come on! You've managed fine so far!"

Regina smirks as the younger woman growls in frustration, before Emma shoves her fists violently into her pockets and storms off down the path. Her normally bottle-blonde hair gleams sodden gold, and little wisps of fog dance above her as she puffs with cold and anger. Waiting until the younger woman has trudged a considerable distance, the Mayor slowly cruises back beside her once more, happily ignoring her murderous expression.

"Oh alright, Sheriff, get in... But do so quickly; you're getting water all over the inside of my window."

" _I'm_ getting water all over...?!"

She turns to glare at the infuriating woman, but a clap of thunder forces her to swallow her pride and run swiftly around the car to the passenger side.

" _Ah_! There's a towel on the back seat, use it to cover the leather, please."

Grumbling, and feeling all the dignity of a dog, Emma throws the towel over the black leather seat before huddling into the warmth of the car; cursing under her breath at the painful chill biting deep within her limbs. Regina rolls up her window and they drive on in silence; Emma fighting the urge to sniff as she has no doubt Regina will lecture her on such a lack of femininity. As the car cruises slowly past first one, and then another logical turning point, Emma fixes the darker woman with a look of confusion.

"You could have turned in that lay-by, there was plenty of room even if you'd skidded..."

" _Not_ that I haven't been driving for a good many years, but why would I wish to do so at all?"

"Mary Margaret's is-"

"-I know well enough where you live, Miss Swan, I _am_ the Mayor in case you'd forgotten. However, I distinctly remember telling you I had no intention to flirt with death merely so you'd be home in time for milk and cookies."

Emma shoots her a sour look and the Mayor decides her impression as to the home-life shared by the toxic woman beside her and the dopey schoolteacher is probably pretty accurate.

_How sweet._

"Where _are_ we going, then?"

Emma asks more for confirmation than as a question; the only nearby residence in their current direction being Regina's own.

"You'll just have to wait out the worst of the storm at my house."

"Is Henry at home?"

The blonde's eyes light up and it's Regina's turn to look sour.

"He is, yes, but he has a lot of homework he needs to do, so I would appreciate it if you'd refrain from getting him unnecessarily excited."

"He's _ten_! How much homework can the kid have?"

"That is something to take up with Miss Blanchard, not myself, and I wish to make the situation perfectly _clear,_ Miss Swan; just because I have decided to take pity on you for this afternoon, does not change the way I feel about you spending time with my son. I simply don't see the town Sheriff catching pneumonia being helpful in the slightest."

"Oh, come on, like you wouldn't just _love_ the excuse to get rid of me?"

"If you'd like to get out and walk, just say the word and I'll switch the child-lock off on your side?"

The brunette snaps irritably. Emma glares at her but keeps her mouth firmly shut. With what she hopes is unseen stealth, she quietly tries the door handle; uncomfortable in the knowledge that she is currently held hostage unless Regina sees fit to release her.

Not missing the decidedly _un_ -stealthy panicked tugging to her right, the Mayor smirks to herself.

As the stately white mansion looms closer, Regina increases the Mercedes's speed a little too hastily; the engine worn and heated from its slow battle through the water-slick town. With a loud groan, the car stutters angrily before giving out all together.

"Shit!"

"Nice going, Regina..."

"Says the woman who's car suffered pretty much the same fate a short while ago!"

"My fifteen year old ' _wreckage of a car_ ' skidded off the road and got stuck in a mud-clogged ditch. Your _Mercedes_ simply got tired of your shitty driving overheating the engine!"

Regina glares at her and then down at the uselessly unlit dashboard, as if her anger will scare the car into cooperating for the last couple of hundred yards. When it becomes clear the darker woman has absolutely _no_ intention of exiting the car unless in the shelter of her garage, Emma rolls her eyes and wrestles momentarily with her door before remembering the child-lock.

"Open up."

"I am not _walking_ through this weather, Miss Swan!"

"Oh, quit being such a fucking princess and just let me out already! Put the car in neutral and, when I say so, take off the handbrake and give it some gas; the engine should kick over and start up again."

With the child-locks deactivated, she slides out the car and slams the door- bowing her head against the instant assault of what can now only be described as sleet- and shucks on her hood as she makes her way round the back of the car. Tapping on the back windscreen she motions impatiently for Regina to roll down her window.

"Ok, take off the handbrake."

When the car doesn't budge, no matter how hard she throws her weight against it, she curses before trudging back around to Regina's window; her breath coming out in short pants from exertion and cold.

"I can't get it to move, I don't- _you still have the damn handbrake on!_ I just _told_ you to take it off!"

The Mayor raises a shapely brow; taking in the Sheriff's drenched scowl with aloof disconcern.

"I didn't _hear_ you, dear!"

"Well fucking read my lips or something then!"

"Calm down, Miss Swan, there's no need to shout..."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one who's getting frostbite!"

"Oh, don't be so _dramatic!_ Go back there and give me a signal or something, and I'll make sure you have more success this time with all your heroic pushing and shoving. Just don't damage my car!"

"I wouldn't _dream_ of it, your _majesty!_ "

She grits her teeth and stalks back around to the car's trunk; bracing her hips against the bumper in case it begins to roll, before raising a hand and giving Regina a signal to go ahead. This time, when she begins working against the car it begrudgingly submits, and eventually the Mercedes rolls forwards on the slippery tarmac as Emma continues to push; arms aching and teeth chattering. There are a few angry whines and growls, and then the engine splutters with new life and the car moves of its own accord.

Reasoning that she doesn't want to risk the vehicle giving out on her again, Regina immediately cruises towards the garage, the remote sensor starting up the large, white doors in their ascent to grant her access. The blonde watches the car drive off with what can't _honestly_ be called disbelief at this point and pulls her coat securely round herself before marching in the direction of the Mayor's front door.

By the time she reaches the marble steps, Regina is waiting impatiently in the doorway, ready to sternly remind the Sheriff to remove her hideous boots before entering. Emma complies- inwardly thanking the fact that her balance is pretty good as she battles with the laces and buckles- before gingerly placing the boots by the front door. She begins making her way through the ample hallway, when she realises that- boots or no boots- she's still tracking water; her socks completely soaked through. Quickly removing them and balling them awkwardly into her coat pocket she stands barefoot on the mercifully heated marble; droplets of water cascading from her sodden coat and jeans to form a pool around her.

"Oh my, but you _do_ look a state, Sheriff..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a small note; at the very end of this chapter, the scissors being referred to are from my one-shot 'Observations' which takes place between these two. You don't have to have read it to understand this, and it has absolutely nothing to do with this story line, I'm just a whore for fun little references! Enjoy.

Regina motions for Emma to follow her into the drawing room to the left of the hallway; scowling at the hopeful glance the blonde throws towards the landing above them.

"Henry is busy doing homework, as I have already told you, and he will _remain_ upstairs doing homework, as I have just requested of _him._ "

Emma opens her mouth to protest, but the Mayor is already waving her hand dismissively and making her way through the impressive archway separating the two rooms.

"Come now, Sheriff, you're letting out all the warmth."

Accepting defeat, Emma pads lightly on her bare feet into the drawing room and regards the hearth curiously. An open fire is working its way up to roaring, and as she continues to focus her attention on the yellow lick of the flames, Regina gracefully stokes the burning logs with an ornate poker she rests back against the wall when done.

"How did you..."

"Well, while you were mucking around outside, I decided to make _use_ of the time..."

"You drove off without me!"

"Quite."

Regina smirks at her less than welcome guest, but she extends an arm none the less. Green eyes observe exposed olive flesh in confusion; unsure whether the Mayor is implying she wishes to shake hands, or is merely showcasing the silky perfection of her forearm. After a pointed dark flicker towards the dripping parka she still wears, Emma comes to the belated realization that the brunette is in fact attempting to take her coat. She works cold fingers numbly at the zipper; tugging aggressively until the garment yields to her submission and handing it to Regina who sniffs in distaste and disposes of it on a hook by the door before primly laying out newspaper on the floor beneath.

Clad now in just her sodden jeans and soaked through charcoal-gray sweater, Emma resists the urge to curl up childishly on the sofa in an attempt to warm her exposed feet beneath her. Instead, she perches as close to the fire as she can and extends her legs out towards the welcome heat; crossing pale ankles neatly. Regina steps over this sudden obstacle- sighing theatrically- and bends over the mahogany drinks cabinet in the corner.

"Cider, Miss Swan?"

The blonde eyes the amber liquid warily, and the Mayor smirks at the memory of the Sheriff's glower when discovered behind bars.

"Ah, yes, I had forgotten about that. Well, dear, I wouldn't worry about waking up incarcerated, as you yourself are what we have to accept as the law in this town these days, and I don't believe you will be driving _anywhere_ in the all too near future."

"Well... Just a little glass..."

"Good girl."

Regina nods, pouring fine crystal to full capacity despite her companion's request, and stalking over; not spilling a drop. She leans forward to place the glass on the low coffee table that resides between the room's two sofas, and Emma raises an eyebrow as she lays out a neat, white napkin before setting down the glass. Pouring herself a similarly large drink, Regina settles on the opposite couch and takes a delicate sip; running her tongue appreciatively over scarlet lipstick.

A silence that is more awkward than it is tense falls between the women, as Emma watches the growing flames and Regina takes in the dampness of the blonde's jeans on her furniture irritably. Her eyes flicker to the ruined parka in the corner, and she only hopes the irksome woman's backside and thighs are relatively dry.

Despite her annoyance, she finds that the way the fire causes the younger woman's hair to glow golden is actually rather pleasing... Especially when coupled with the way the soft light plays over her face. Feeling her cheeks grow warm at the realization that she is currently bathing the Sheriff with such appreciative thoughts, Regina quickly grasps for a negative.

As always, with Emma Swan, she doesn't need to look very far.

"Dear God, is that your perfume?"

She gives a distasteful sniff and is met with a stony glare.

"I'm not _wearing_ any perfume..."

"Then that may be the problem."

Emma rolls her eyes and plucks at her sweater

"It's wool, and it's wet. Wet wool stinks of wet dog, I can't help it."

Regardless of her words, she crosses her arms over her stomach and pulls the sweater up over her head; throwing it in the direction of her parka to land in a sodden heap on the floor. Regina's lip quirks in annoyance, but the aforementioned smell dissipates instantly, and now only the faint scent of rain lingers. The skin of the blonde's arms and chest dapples with goosebumps at this sudden exposure, but the heat from the fire is strong, and she is much more comfortable in the thin scrap of the tank top she now wears, without the damp chill of her outer garments.

"Oh, but of course. _Please_ , make yourself at home, Miss Swan!"

The Mayor's tone drips with sarcasm, but her dark eyes linger on the Sheriff's pale flesh momentarily before fixing her with a cool stare. Emma shrugs- collarbones rippling pleasantly- and reaches for her glass.

"Thanks."

It is unclear whether this is a goading response to her sarcasm, or a well-hidden but genuine sentiment of gratitude regarding the situation, so Regina decides to ignore it. They drink in silence a while longer, but the cider is sweet and good and blesses the atmosphere with an odd form of comfort. Emma licks her lips appreciatively free of sticky sweetness and grins in amusement as Regina unintentionally mimics her. The Mayor doesn't return her smile, but neither does she glare at her, which Emma decides is probably a positive thing.

"So, what _was_ the 'business' you had to attend to that was so important you had to venture out into the storm, _even_ if it meant, uh, 'flirting with death', anyway?"

Regina raises an eyebrow, but dodges the question easily.

"You're lucky I _did_ venture out, Miss Swan! Where exactly _were_ you headed when I came across you?"

"I figured if I made my way to the garage that even if the mechanic didn't feel like braving the weather, I could at least borrow a tow-truck or wait out the storm. I was going to cut through the woods at the turning just ahead of where we met."

The Mayor blanches slightly at this- her expression momentarily horrified- before quickly composing herself and throwing Emma a look of disdain.

"Oh, _sure_ , what an _excellent_ idea, Sheriff! The garage is _only_ a good three miles trek through the forest, and you have absolutely _no_ idea where you're going. We would have been sending you back to Boston in a body-bag! _If,_ that is, we were able to find you at all!"

Emma scowls at Regina's low expectations of her orienteering skills- however accurate they may be- but then breaks into a grin and cocks her head to regard the brunette with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"If I didn't _know_ any better, I'd say you were just _worried_ about me!"

"Just the lack of sanity that would lead you to trekking through rough terrain in this 'whore of a storm', dear."

"Bitch of a storm."

"My apologies, you have an impressive mouth on you, it's hard to keep up."

"So I've been told..."

Emma offers her host a salacious wink, causing the latter to choke on her cider. Regina sniffs; cheeks rouging slightly.

"I'd rather you _spare_ me the details of your most recent alley-way encounter, if it's all the same to you."

The blonde rolls her eyes dramatically as a shiver travels through her body. She rubs her arms fiercely, and the Mayor realises that the Sheriff's lips are tinged almost the same shade of blue as the bra visible through her damp, white tank.

"Miss Swan, you're shaking."

"No I'm not."

Emma squares her jaw indignantly, but can't help herself as another shiver racks through her violently. Regina sighs and gets up to walk behind her. The blonde tenses immediately- unsure what the darker woman plans to do- but manages to suppress her urge to jump when heavy fabric is draped over her shoulders. She pulls the proffered quilt tightly around herself and mutters a thank you to Regina, who resumes her place on the sofa.

"You are perhaps one of the _stubbornest_ people I have ever met, Miss Swan..."

She says it as though simply musing, rather than derogatively; merely casting Emma a pondering glance.

"Well, we wouldn't have _nearly_ as much fun if I wasn't..."

The blonde grins and the Mayor barks loudly with laughter before she can help herself. Glaring at the Sheriff accusingly, the corners of her mouth twitch traitorously with mirth.

"I'm not sure ' _fun_ ' is something I associate you with, my dear, but you _do_ offer a pitiful source of amusement at times, I will admit."

Emma simply smiles and shrugs her shoulders, reaching for her cider, before giving in to temptation and curling up so that her entire body is engulfed within the blanket save for slender hands and pale face. Regina imagines they must look a very peculiar couple indeed, as she smooths out the beginnings of a crease in her impeccably crisp dress-pants. Squaring her shoulders in their tailored shirt, she fluffs her dark waves so that they bounce just short of her jacket. Emma watches her do so from her huddled ball on the sofa- damp blonde curls escaping in every direction- and decides to locate her brush when she gets home.

Not that she's jealous of Regina's flawless locks of course.

"Like what you see, dear?"

The younger woman blinks and tears her eyes away from the fingers still teasing the chestnut strands that frame the Mayor's face. She gives the glass in her hand a wary look and lowers it from her lips distrustfully.

"I like your hair"

_Oh for the love of... get a grip, Swan! 'I like your hair', what the fuck was that?! What are you, five?!_

She gives herself a firm mental slap, but Regina merely nods as though she expects nothing less.

"Thank you, it's called conditioner."

"Your wit astounds me; I'll make sure the _next_ time I'm on duty in a fucking storm I pack a bottle of herbal essence."

Green eyes narrow as the Sheriff drawls sarcastically, causing the Mayor to smirk. She gets up and repositions herself so that she sits next to the- now slightly wary- younger woman, and runs slender fingers through blonde tresses in a business-like manner.

"You know, it's not _actually_ that bad. It just needs a brush, and it _desperately_ needs a trim."

Emma eyes the golden scissors on the desk in corner nervously.

"If you plan on coming anywhere near me with those scissors again, I'm going to need a _lot_ more cider!"

"Well, _that_ can easily be arranged, Sheriff..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, I hate to sound like an unabashed, self-promoting asshole- and I hadn't originally planned on linking the two stories at all- but this chapter again contains references to my One-shot 'Observations'. They are a little more in-depth this time, but you still don't have to have read the story to understand this one, it's just that when Regina is referring to the time she has seen Emma without her jeans on- and several comments she makes in reference to this- they pertain to that previous scene. Enjoy!

Regina kneels at the far end of the sofa; sharp heels digging gently into the soft round of her backside. Although several of her words twist harshly towards her companion, most of what she has to say could be considered 'normal' conversation- not quite 'friendly', perhaps- but getting there. The glass she holds delicately between slim fingers wavers as she becomes slightly more animated; the liquid within tipping perilously high up crystal sides, but never spilling.

Emma slouches with the armrest digging softly into her back, but pays this little mind. At some point, she has kicked the quilt down her body so that it now just covers her feet, and she sits with her knees up between them, facing Regina. She pours some of the dwindling amber liquid from the carafe into her glass, before reaching out to place the decanter back on the table. It's an awkward stretch from her current position, and she falls into the last few inches; stomach tensing painfully to try and control the movement and avoid smashing the large glass jug onto the table.

"Careful, dear, perhaps that should be your last..."

Regina points at the brimming glass in the blonde's hand and Emma scowls at her.

"I'm not _drunk_."

"Of course not."

"I just underestimated the distance."

"Or rather, _over_ estimated your abilities; a trend I have long since associated with yourself."

"Oh please, you couldn't _handle_ some of my abilities!"

 _Ok, so maybe she's a_ little _drunk..._

Not surprising, as for each glass the Mayor sips at daintily, the Sheriff finds herself working through twice the amount.

_Well, if the damn woman would shut up for a second, perhaps we'd be more evenly matched!_

True, but she says nothing on the matter. Instead, she allows Regina's pleasantly warm voice to continue to wash over her; something about Archie and his credentials and what she makes of sparks between him and the promiscuous little tramp at the Diner. Emma opens her mouth to object to such words being used against Ruby, but then decides against it. She hasn't really been paying attention, and the last thing she needs is for the Mayor to call her up on it. Instead, she gives a small nod- indicating that the brunette should go on- and idly pokes out her tongue to lap childishly at the cider in her glass. This earns her a disapproving frown, which in turn has her cheerfully repeating the act; green eyes comically focused on the drink in front of her, almost crossed. Regina loses her train of thought and her story comes to a halt.

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

Wide doe-eyes convey complete innocence. Regina merely glares at her but doesn't elaborate, so Emma feigns ignorance. Eyes intently captivating the Mayor's own, she slowly slips her tongue back out and delicately touches the tip to the amber liquid; never once breaking eye-contact.

The brunette's cheeks flare an angry scarlet.

"For the love of God, Miss Swan; put your tongue away before I chop it off!"

She shoots a pointed glance at the scissors gleaming in the corner, and Emma snaps her tongue swiftly back behind sharp teeth which grin at the Mayor sharkishly.

_Gosh, but she has pretty teeth._

Emma eventually stops grinning quite so psychopathically, but a smile remains as she tips her drink properly to her mouth and lets it glide easily down her throat. Regina lets her finish most of it, before lunging forward and deftly plucking the glass from unsuspecting fingers.

"Hey!"

The brunette lets out a throaty chuckle; dark eyes gleaming as she leans so close to Emma that her breath tickles her cheek. She flashes her own smile as the blonde shrinks back slightly; leaning away from that hot, distracting breath, and unintentionally exposing a tantalizingly long swatch of bare flesh at her throat. This illicits another titter, as Regina finishes the last of the liquid in her requisitioned glass and places it on the table to their side.

"What was _that_?"

"You're showing several signs of having had quite enough to drink, dear. I'm merely saving you from any potential embarrassment."

Emma huffs, regarding the Mayor coolly as the darker woman remains lent in too close; her weight carried on strong, slender arms that end in a tight grip at the Sheriff's knees. Regina glares at her a moment longer, before looking down at where her hands rest over blue denim in distaste.

"Your jeans are still damp, Miss Swan; you'll catch a cold."

Emma shrugs; the wet fabric slightly uncomfortable, but she has warmed up considerably and isn't particularly bothered.

"I'm ok. And anyway, the last time you were threatened with me taking off my jeans, it was all terribly traumatic for you, if you remember. I'd _hate_ to put you through that again..."

Regina regards her levelly; more than happy beat the woman before her at her own game.

"Nonsense, dear, I'll go fetch you something to borrow."

She pushes herself up from Emma's legs and feigns intent to get off the couch. Strong fingers circle her wrist quickly and force her to remain put.

"To _hell_ you will! I had bruised hips for a week where those damn slacks cut in!"

The brunette smiles unsympathetically.

"I apologize, that must have called for quite some explanation to whichever gentlemen you were friendly with that particular week."

Green eyes roll dramatically at the barbed comment.

"Oh shut up, Regina."

"Or what?"

Impulsively, Emma grins and pushes herself up so that she kneels high up on the couch. She makes a show of working at the belt circling her hips; teasing the buckle open and pulling it slowly through the loops of her jeans.

She waits for a cry of distaste or anger.

She waits for Regina to call her bluff.

But the brunette just raises an eyebrow and leans back against the armrest to observe.

With the belt completely free, Emma holds it out over the stone floor and lets it drop gently; the dark leather curling up into a serpentine shape below them. Still, the darker woman's perfectly plucked brow remains raised and expectant, and the Sheriff slowly realizes she doesn't have much of a plan from here on out. Testing the water, she pops open the button of her Levi's and drags down the zipper, but still no protest comes from the other end of the couch. Cheeks pinkening a little, she hooks a finger through the belt-loops on either side of her hips in preparation to pull dark denim down.

The key word being 'preparation'.

Regina smirks and green eyes flicker up at her haughtily.

"Don't like to be kept waiting?"

Bold words to cover hesitant actions, and the Mayor bites back easily.

"Just waiting to see if you're a woman true to her word..."

Emma looks at her quizzically; hips still up in the air, and fingers still ready to peel away the wet denim encasing her thighs. Sexual, but for the endearing expression of incomprehension. The Mayor smirks and lets her eyes wander down the taut flesh at her eye-line; teasingly visible through translucent cotton.

"What word is that?"

"The last time I saw quite so...Much... Of you, Miss Swan, you were wearing some absolutely _delightful_ little shorties depicting some _adorable_ little cartoon characters, and, when I questioned you on this...Do you remember what you told me?"

Emma struggles to recollect her words; the answer hazy as her body thrums with the heat of the cider. Everything is apples and her face feels a little too warm, but her hooded study of the Mayor proffers her similar tell-tale signs of tipsy. Slowly, the answer dawns on her, and she feels the blush at her cheeks bloom brighter.

"...That my crotchless leathers were in the wash..."

Scarlet lips stretch into a salacious smile.

"Indeed, and if I remember correctly, you boldly promised to show me 'next time'... Which I would say this is, Miss Swan"

Still the blonde hesitates; unsure whether she's playing or being played. The fire burns brightly behind her; casting her features with dusky shadow as the flames halo her hair white. Regina bores into her with eyes that appear almost black in the current light; waiting to see what move the Sheriff will make.

"...Your hesitance is making me think you're all talk, Miss Swan... That if you were to remove your jeans as you threaten, I would have firm confirmation that you're nothing but a dirty liar..."

Pale fingers tremble tellingly- still hooked in the loops of time-battered Levi's- and Regina's eyes flash with victory.

"So you _are_ a liar... Naughty girl... So, who would I see this time? Mickey Mouse? Or are you secretly a Mini girl?"

The Mayor's lips are curled too wide; too sure she holds the winning hand. Emma decides to play her own; delivering a Royal Flush. She pulls at the belt loops- sideways rather than downward- slowly splaying the denim out from the zip; creating a small wedge of what lies beneath her jeans to be exposed in a tantalizing V.

She was, of course, lying about the crotchless leathers.

However, the triangle of fabric that holds the Mayor's attention is neither cotton, nor does it depict the face of any wholesomely beloved American cartoon character.

No. The red lace is simple, and minimal in more ways than one. It clashes with the blue of the blonde's visible bra-straps, but Regina decides she's willing to forgive this much, and after all, it's not as though she's _surprised_ at the mismatch. Her eyes linger on the red swatch of the younger woman's lingerie a moment longer, before traveling slowly up the latter's body and drilling into Emma's own. The blonde remains carefully expressionless as she holds Regina's intense stare; still poised, with her fingers still hooked into her jeans. The brunette flashes her gaze down to the slender fingers entwined within coarse denim, and when she speaks, her voice is slightly hoarse.

"Take them off."


	4. Chapter 4

_"Take them off."_

Seconds crawl languidly past, and still the Sheriff remains motionless. Regina tilts her jaw to look up at the blonde irritably; not accustomed to being denied what she pleases, especially in a situation such as this. Alabaster skin blushes crimson, and Emma's pleasingly pink bottom lip is trapped between teeth the Mayor is willing to bet- willing to _hope_ \- are as sharp as they look. The expression is undeniably sexy, perhaps largely due to the fact that it's the result of nervousness; the seductive nature of the act a happy side effect.

_Well, look who's suddenly come over all shy..._

She _could_ taunt Emma- after all, it's what comes naturally- but the situation is fragile, and she doesn't wish for the moment to break just yet. Instead, she places her hands gently over Emma's own.

 _What the hell, she wants to hold_ hands _now?_

The blonde looks down at where the Mayor's fingers encompass her own quizzically. She's never been one for handholding, or anything _else_ in that horrifically _intimate_ spectrum. She battles internally against the urge to pull her hands out from beneath the brunette's soft palms, but the flawlessly manicured grip of the Mayor is firm, and rather than stroking and caressing, the darker woman simply begins to manipulate pale fingers from the denim hooks of her Levi's. Emma allows her hands to be guided up and away from her jeans; holding them up awkwardly with her palms splayed loosely towards Regina as she awaits communication on what comes next.

Slender fingers hook into denim loops roughly and tug viciously downwards. The blonde falls forward due to the aggressive jerk as her jeans are ripped halfway down her thighs; clutching Regina's shoulders and letting out a harsh gasp of surprise into the perfect shell of her ear.

"Fuck!"

She feels scarlet lips smirk into her hair at her breathless curse, as painted fingers release coarse denim and rest gently on the smooth skin of her thighs; cupping them from behind a few inches below the swell of her ass.

With Emma bent into her- still on her knees- Regina lets her eyes travel the bare planes of the younger woman's shoulder blades, before continuing down over the thin fabric of her top to finally revel on the smooth, pale expanse of the small of her back and the delicate red lace that narrows perfectly between pertly toned ass cheeks.

She momentarily considers making wearing cotton shorties illegal.

Aesthetic pleasure aside, the fact still remains that the blonde is a liar, and the Mayor refuses to let such things slide. She brings the flat of her hand down hard on the pale, rounded flesh of the Sheriff's backside with enough force to mark. A choked yelp in her ear assures her that the lesson is well on its way to being learnt, as Emma pushes up off of her, shaking mussed hair out of wide eyes that flash an angry grey.

"Did you just fucking _spank_ me?!"

The blonde's fingers dig ruthlessly into her shoulders, and Regina eyes her coolly as the younger woman leans back to give herself a better vantage point from which to glare down haughtily. A small twitch to the side of Emma's mouth betrays incredulous amusement despite her anger at the act. The Mayor merely smiles at her; a finger running lazily over the waistband of lace at Emma's backside.

"You lied to me, Miss Swan, and that is something I simply _cannot_ allow to go unpunished..."

Angular brows arch as the blonde regards her caustically.

"You're gonna _punish_ me? Seriously!? As in 'you've been a bad, _bad_ little girl, Emm'- _A_!"

Smooth hands cup her ass firmly and jerk her roughly forwards once more; crimson lips swallowing her ever persistent sarcasm in a painful clashing of teeth. She cries out, surprised; the sound curiously muffled as Regina bites down on her bottom lip before entwining slender fingers into cornsilk tangles and forcing her head back to attack her throat with a similar onslaught of tongue and teeth.

"Wh- What are you doing?"

The brunette smirks into soft, honey-scented skin at the audible panic in Emma's hoarse whisper; nipping playfully the younger woman's pulse-point and earning a sharp intake of breath. She soothes the abused flesh with her tongue, chuckling at the tense rigidity of the blonde's finely muscled frame as she battles between resistance and relish.

"I would have thought it was fairly _obvious,_ dear..."

"Regina, _ah_ , stop..."

The anxiety playing through Emma's tone- causing her voice to waver slightly- is juxtaposed by the way her hands- previously clamped on the brunette's shoulders- flutter down the fine silk of the Mayor's suit jacket, before she loops bare arms loosely around the latter's neck. Leaning back slightly, Emma forces the darker woman to stop her ministrations; green eyes glittering with confusion as they finally capture Regina's own.

"I- Why are you... I didn't think you even... I thought you _hated_ me?"

"Oh, I _do_ , dear"

Hands that never left the smooth skin of her ass creep softly up to rest at her hips and guide her gently down so that their eyes are locked at the same level. Emma studies the Mayor's face curiously, eyes flickering over delicate features; taking in every small detail. Red lipstick is now just a ghosted memory; its remnants smudged salaciously outside the natural lines. A small scar mars Regina's upper lip, and the blonde runs a feather-light fingertip along its length.

"Good, at least it's mutual..."

"What is?"

"I hate you too..."

Hesitant lips press softly against Regina's; no demand for access- no urgency- just testing the water. The Mayor bites the inside of her cheeks to stop from smirking into the kiss; Emma's tentative nervousness surprising her.

The soft flutter of breath against her skin as the Regina stifles her amusement is not lost on the Sheriff, and she pulls away immediately as if scalded. Stormy eyes flash distrustfully; hurt feelings hidden by a sneer as she glares at the brunette.

"Something funny?"

Her voice is dangerously low and Regina barely represses a shiver.

 _Dear God, if she continues to use_ that _tone she can have whatever she damn wants..._

"I just never figured you to be the shy retiring type..."

"Well, I never figured _you_ as a sexual predator, and yet, here we are..."

" _Sexual predator_? Really, dear? I believe _you_ started this with your little display of indecent exposure."

"I was proving a _point_! I didn't ask you to _molest_ me!"

The brunette laughs at the indignation in Emma's tone, and doesn't miss the sparkle in irritatingly enticing green eyes; daring her to continue despite verbal complaints to the contrary. She uses the pleasant ridges of the blonde's hipbones to steer her slightly off to the side; eventually managing to settle her so that she straddles one suit-clad knee. She runs her fingers lightly up and down the smooth expanse of Emma's thighs as the latter curls her fingers into soft chestnut locks.

It's soft and gentle, and so out of character that neither woman can fathom what the other's next move will be.

Manicured fingers travel teasingly close to the apex of Emma's thighs, causing her to shudder and give one last fleeting attempt to talk some sense into the situation.

"Don't, we shouldn't-"

Regina's lips quickly find hers once more, and slender fingers leave her thighs to cup her cheeks; preventing her from pulling away.

"You talk too much, Miss Swan..."

The brunette scolds, and as Regina mutters these words, the Sheriff takes advantage of her open mouth and slips her tongue between parted lips; seemingly deciding to take on the notion of 'if you can't beat them, join them'.

The Mayor allows their kiss to deepen- handing over momentary control; unable to distinguish Emma's taste from her own as everything is apples- before biting down hard on the blonde's bottom lip and increasing the pressure until she's rewarded with a soft cry and the salted taste of iron.

Pulling back slowly, she takes in a red smear at the younger woman's mouth; slightly taken aback that Emma would allow her bite to intensify to the point of drawing blood. She drags an experimental thumb down over broken flesh, rubbing away the scarlet stain and exposing teeth painfully white by contrast. The blonde nips suddenly at the fleshy pad of her thumb; scraping the bloodied whorl of her fingertip roughly with her teeth.

_Christ, so much for being the shy, retiring type..._

She leans back in and captures Emma's lips with new found vigor; the taste of cider marred with the coppery tang of the younger woman's blood. Pale hands creep up the front of Regina's jacket, finding the lapels and pulling the garment roughly aside to expose a silken sleeveless blouse and the equally soft, bare flesh of her arms. The Mayor lets out a soft moan as the Sheriff's mouth leaves hers to start a smouldering trail down her jaw towards her collarbone- all teeth and tongue; sharp then soothing- while her fingers start to work blindly at the small, gold buttons of her blouse with admirable dexterity.

"D-don't start something you can't finish, Sheriff..."

Sharp teeth graze aggressively against her collarbone, and the expert fingers now working between the valley of her breasts suddenly tug hard at the luxurious material; ripping the shirt the rest of the way open and leaving the Mayor in no doubt Emma has every intention of finishing what they've started.


	5. Chapter 5

"Miss Swan, that was _wildly_ inappropriate!"

Regina barks angrily as she looks down to survey her ruined shirt in disbelief. She feels a cruel scrape at her collarbone as Emma's lips uncover sharp teeth; laughing huskily into tanned flesh.

"I don't think _anything_ about this is exactly appropri- _AH_!"

Regina tightens her hand around a fistful of pale gold and wrenches the younger woman's head back forcefully; glaring into eyes that shimmer with what she suspects is lust rather than pain.

For the most part, anyway.

A hint of bloody scarlet still clings to the blonde's kiss-swollen lips, and the sparse spatter of freckles on her nose is just noticeable under such close inspection. Emma regards the Mayor testily; forbidding her eyes from watering as the grip on her hair intensifies.

"Quiet!"

Regina pushes the Sheriff off of her forcefully; Emma landing on her back on the sofa, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. She quickly sits herself back up, crossing her legs, and looking up at the Mayor in disbelief. The brunette throws her a final scowl before turning her back and stalking away from the couch.

 _What the fuck! Is she_ serious? _She only damn well went and_ started _all this! Whatever 'this' is..._

"Regina..."

A sharp turn on stiletto heels and the Mayor faces her once more, the delicate click of the lock behind her deafeningly loud through the palpable tension. Ruined silk hangs open- the fabric pulled in places and missing several buttons- to expose a narrow swatch of soft, olive flesh. The brunette runs a hand over the lust-marked skin of her throat and pierces the Sheriff with a dark glance.

"I don't know- nor do I wish for you to enlighten me on- what _debauched_ activities you get up to after a bottle of cheap whisky and a night on the prowl, Miss Swan, but I _do_ know that if you _dare_ use your teeth on me one more time, you will be outside in the storm so fast you won't even know what hit you..."

Despite her perturbed tone, her hands move sensually to her hips; her stance one of irritation, but the motion serving to part the fabric of her shirt further to display delicate ivory lace. The blonde trails newly exposed flesh with lust-darkened eyes, her tongue darting quickly over her bottom lip. From her position on the sofa, she can just make out the flushed marks her teeth have left down the older woman's throat; a stark contrast to the rest of her which stands as the epitome if perfection.

She understands. The Mayor is flawless and will not permit her to mark her.

She nods in silent comprehension; curls cascading heavily over her shoulder. She tucks her bare legs up beneath her and waits for Regina to resume her place on the sofa.

After a further moment's pause, the brunette walks slowly back over to her seat- heels clicking dangerously- but doesn't proceed to lower herself down onto the plush upholstery. Instead, she stands before the Sheriff- looking down at her with fierce brown eyes- running her hands sensually up to the front of her shirt. She slowly peels apart the silken fabric and allows the garment to drop from her shoulders to the floor in a whisper.

Emma finds herself curiously reminded of the porcelain doll owned by a young classmate a lifetime ago; the Mayor's skin redolent of that perfect, blemish-free china.

Flawless.

Faultless.

She stands up to face the brunette; hands moving to rest timidly at the latter's waist. With Regina still in her heels, they are of exactly the same height, and dark, latin eyes pierce her own intensely. She feels momentarily shy- begrudgingly in awe of the older woman's soft perfection- and uncomfortably inadequate; a feeling distressingly familiar, yet no easier to accept for it. She suddenly wishes she'd kept her damn jeans on; the expanse of skin she has offered up for display paling in comparison to the Mayor's in more ways than one. A large bruise decorates her right thigh- a memento from a disagreement with the kitchen table a few days ago- and a splash of maroon colours the narrow bone of her shin where she's nicked herself while shaving.

Sensing the blonde's continued uncharacteristic hesitation, Regina captures her lips; softly this time. She sways her body slightly, hinting that she will permit the younger woman's hands to explore. Her encouragement is rewarded when cool fingers run softly over her sides and back, tickling slightly as they stroke the sensitive flesh over her ribcage. She lets out a small sigh and Emma can't help but grin into the kiss

"Ticklish?"

In their current position, her words play gentle breath over the Mayor's lips. Regina opens one eye irritably and silently challenges sparkling green. She trails a featherlight finger up the soft flesh of Emma's inner thigh and the blonde takes an involuntary step back, shivering.

"No more than you, it would seem..."

"I'm not ticklish, you just surprised me!"

Regina rolls her eyes at the Sheriff's persistent stubbornness, despite inwardly realizing her growing taste for that ever combative tongue.

"Really, dear? You stand here half naked and willing, and it surprises you that I would desire to touch you?"

Emma gives a noncommittal shrug of indifference, but a deep blush creeps delicately over her cheeks at the Mayor's words. She quickly strives to shatter the moment- a little too overwhelmed by the complex feelings churning inside her chest- and pulls Regina into a harsh kiss; her body completely flush with the other woman's bare torso. The brunette runs her finger up the Sheriff's thigh once again- much more deliberately this time- before gently continuing up to cup the blonde through delicate lace. Emma stiffens instantly at the intimate contact but doesn't pull away.

They stand like this for a couple of beats; each acutely aware of the other's breathing and heat. Regina doesn't move her fingers- just keeps them pressed lightly to the blonde's centre- and the Sheriff gradually allows herself to relax. Emma eventually glides her own hand up the smooth skin of the Mayor's back and deftly unclasps the latter's ivory bra with a quick flick of her wrist. She braces herself for whatever wrath this gesture may incur, but her only penance is a delicate kiss to the side of her mouth. Their close proximity keeps the garment in place; held up between Regina's chest and her own.

The Mayor moves her fingers gently against the hot lace at the blonde's core; relishing the feeling as the latter trembles against her. Emma lets out a shuddering breath- tickling the brunette's lips hotly- and wills herself to step away; allowing Regina's bra to drop softly to the floor. She takes another step back to better her view. The Mayor rests her hands on her hips; brazenly allowing the Sheriff's eyes to travel the prefect curves of her body. The blonde catches her lip with her teeth, causing Regina to smirk.

"I have a _face_ , you know."

"Yeah, but I've seen _that_ already..."

Emma's eyes don't even flicker as she speaks and the Mayor scoffs at her humorously.

"I won't bother asking you if you like what you see; if you were any _more_ obvious, you'd be drooling."

"So don't."

Slim hands travel to find the clasp of the Mayor's dress pants, but are deterred as the brunette taps them swiftly away.

"Oh no, Miss Swan, it's _your_ turn to show and tell."

Emma pulls back her reprimanded hands to rest on her hips irritably, throwing the brunette a disgruntled look. Her annoyance is simply smoke and mirrors however, for the unease she truly feels. Despite their spattering of bruises, she knows her legs are long, coltish, and pleasing to the eye. She has always been much more self-conscious about her upper body, and her current competition seems cruelly unfair.

Regina senses a shift in the Sheriff's demeanour and regards the younger woman curiously. She recalls her own brief exploration of Emma's midsection- unbeknownst to the blonde herself- which had revealed those painfully damning silver stretch-marks and the cruel scarring below her ribs. The sudden wave of empathy and understanding she feels surprises her almost into disgust, but she knows the younger woman won't stand for being coaxed out of her clothes with kindness anyway.

"Don't tell me you've lost your _nerve_ , Sheriff."

Her words have the effect she knew they would, and Emma throws her a long-suffering glance before pulling her tank top over her head. She shakes out her hair and stands with her hands on bare hips; her combative stance daring Regina to criticize. The lean muscle that lines her slender frame suggests the Sheriff may not be the best person to aggravate. Not that the Mayor could find many words of fault even if she'd wished to do so. She offers a coy smile at the younger woman, before taking her hand and gently pulling her into the middle of the room; proceeding to stalk around her in an excruciatingly slow circle, drinking in the form before her.

As with her legs, the Sheriff's torso is pale, smooth, and dappled with various freckles and marks. Her slight frame showcases both her bone structure and musculature pleasingly, and she allows Regina to continue her circle of observation uncomfortably but patiently. She holds herself awkwardly, unsure what to do with her hands; ending up with one in a tight fist at her side while the other hovers self-consciously over the scar above her stomach.

"Do you want to talk about how you got it?"

"No."

"Then I won't ask."

With that, firm hands push her back towards the sofa, and when the backs of her knees make sudden contact, she falls down with a yelp; eyes locked with the dark coals glittering above her. Regina stands with her shins pressed against the lip of the sofa- her legs between Emma's- and smiles down at the blonde salaciously. She closes her eyes and runs her hands up into her hair and down her neck to cup her breasts- letting out a soft moan- before trailing her nails lightly down her stomach to find the clasp of her dress pants. Peering slowly up through sooty lashes, she proceeds to finger open the clasp and let the crisp, expensive material fall ghost-like to the floor. Stepping neatly out of her heels, she bends down to catch the blonde's awe-parted lips.

Their soft kiss deepens, and Regina shoves abruptly at the Sheriff's shoulders; forcing her down so that she lies on her back. The brunette smirks at the small sound of indignation that comes from below her and crawls lightly onto the pale limbs which quiver beneath her; straddling taut thighs and leaning down to capture Emma's bottom lip with her teeth.

The blonde breaks their kiss and trails her attention down into the hollow of Regina's throat. The Mayor tenses- ready to scold harshly if bitten- but the Sheriff merely presses the flat of her tongue where before she had used her teeth; causing the brunette's pulse to race.

Ivory silk presses down hotly on red lace as the Mayor runs her fingers through blonde curls; eyes blissfully closed as Emma continues her delicate exploration of her clavicles. After a while, she repositions herself slightly; wriggling until the sharp peak of the blonde's hipbone presses against the place she needs it most.

"Fuck..."

Gravelly laughter into her flesh and she pushes herself up and regards the Sheriff with a scowl.

"Something funny, Miss Swan?"

Emma simply grins back up at her smugly; eyes flashing feverishly in the dying light of the fire. Regina pounces suddenly forward, nipping at soft flesh through cheap blue fabric.

" _Regina! Shit!_ "

The blonde's hips buck up in surprise as her body jerks in reaction to Regina's teeth, causing the woman above her to groan softly before smirking down wickedly.

"Take it off or I do that again..."

"You say that like it's a threat..."

The Mayor raises a brow in surprise, before lowering her mouth with explicit purpose and biting down hard on the fragile bow of the Sheriff's clavicle, causing the younger woman to shake as the pressure increases unbearably. The blonde's breathing quickens to short, pained pants as she grazes her fingers frantically over Regina's thighs. Finally pulling away, the Mayor observes the younger woman's face with something akin to wonder; green eyes clamped shut, and pale lips parted wantonly.

"Take it off, Sheriff, or I _won't_ do that again"


	6. Chapter 6

Emma pushes herself up so that she sits face to face with Regina, the brunette's legs still draped over her own. Slender fingers tease their way through a curtain of gold; blindly searching for purchase and submission from the irritable garment that serves as the only barrier between the two women's upper bodies.

"What _the_... What the hell is wrong with this thing?"

The Mayor snarls low into her ear, while Emma tries to keep from squirming as sharp nails claw ruthlessly at her back. Deciding to take action before Regina can draw blood, she reaches up behind herself and tugs the tricky crooked teeth loose. The brunette sniffs in distaste.

"One of the _many_ reasons to refrain from buying cheap underwear."

"Well, I'm _sorry_ I didn't put as much forethought into what to wear in the case of a storm-induced romp as you did..."

"That is an ugly word, Sheriff, and not my point; you wouldn't display a Rembrandt in a cheap frame."

"I wasn't planning on _displaying_ anything!"

"Clearly, as even going so far as to select matching under-garments seems beyond you."

"Whatever you say, Picasso."

An irritable tug at her hair causes the blonde to chuckle as she leans back slightly and allows for the Mayor to trail a hot course down her sternum with her tongue. Veering to one side, Regina catches the narrow strap of Emma's unhooked bra between her teeth and drags it slowly over her shoulder until it dangles loosely over her arm. She repeats the action on the other side before pulling the cheap fabric cleanly away; throwing it in the vague direction of the rest of the blonde's clothes.

"Much better..."

Regina runs her hand appreciatively up the valley between the blonde's breasts and offers her a decidedly wet kiss.

"Well, at least now I know how to sweeten you up next time we argue..."

"Oh, _do_ shut up, Miss Swan."

"Make me."

Rolling her eyes, the brunette slips the younger woman her tongue, before pulling back to find the Sheriff grinning at her impishly.

_Well, aren't you quite the schizophrenic little pixie, Miss Swan_

Regina pushes at the blonde's sternum with a little more force; directing her back onto the sofa, and following suit herself so that her slender frame gently crushes the pale form beneath her. She can feel the Sheriff's breasts moving against her own, as ragged breaths whisper against her cheek. Readjusting herself slightly so that Emma's thigh rubs deliciously against the quickly dampening crotch of her underwear, she smirks as the younger woman gasps upon discovering her wetness. Grinding down harder, she braces herself with a hand on the armrest behind Emma's head so as better to study her guest.

The blonde takes advantage of the space created between them to run her hands roughly up the Mayor's sides before palming coyly at firm breasts now directly above her. Regina moans quietly and rewards the Sheriff with a slow kiss. Her dark locks brush against pale cheeks teasingly- catching on dark lashes- and she groans into the other's mouth as she feels her nipple rolled- none too gently- between slim fingers. She retaliates with an experimental nip at the blonde's lip; quickly tasting fresh copper as she reopens the indents from her previous assault. The slender limbs beneath her tense, and she feels rather than hears a soft keening from below her, but before she can release wounded flesh from between her teeth, the thigh she straddles so deliciously works a small rotation; effectively doubling the tantalizing friction between her heat and Emma's leg.

"Oh _god!_ "

She groans the words before she can stop herself; Emma's bruised lip still in place between gritted teeth. She feels the wetness in her mouth increase as that tell-tale metallic taste becomes stronger, and she finally lets the Sheriff go; bracing herself up again so she can look down into pale features dancing with eery shadows cast by the fire. A thin trickle of blood flows freely from the blonde's lip and down her chin; the droplet catching perilously on the sharp line of her jaw before descending into the hollow of her throat. Its progress is slow, and Regina is unsure how much time elapses as she watches the ruby pearl drop, but their breathing is harsh and synchronized, and the blonde's leg continues to slowly stimulate her through sodden silk.

_I did that._

Despite it being somewhat out of character, she still expects to feel a small sense of guilt.

_Really? Guilt?_

Perhaps that would be too strong a word, but at least a sense of _wrong_ -doing. But, looking down into eyes so diluted that only the thinnest rim of green is visible, she feels only arousal. As a woman in her position, she has occasionally inflicted measurable amounts of pain into her passion, but never before has the action been spurred on by the recipient. Pain is not something she herself has ever thought of as a particular turn on- preferring the satisfaction of power over physical discipline- but the harsh breaths of the blonde beneath her and the darkness of her eyes have her rethinking the matter.

"Do you _like_ it rough, Sheriff?"

She had been aiming for seductive, but she suppresses a cringe at how lame the question sounds when voiced; reminiscent of bad pornography at best. Regardless, the thigh working its magic against her centre grinds with a new violence, and battered lips form a positively evil grin. Emma lifts her head to bring a pebbled nipple into her mouth; sharp teeth closing with measured force. Regina instantly grabs a fistful of hair from the crown of the Sheriff's scalp and slams her back down into the sofa, silently delighting in the small yelp and the wet smack as the younger woman relinquishes her nipple painfully.

"What did I tell you about biting!?"

The blonde smirks boldly, and the Mayor slams her own body down roughly, forcing the air painfully from Emma's lungs. She remains nose to pretty nose with the younger woman; piercing her icily with her dark gaze.

"You will _not_ mark me, Miss Swan! You will _not_ -"

She slams her hips down into the blonde's again; eliciting another choked gasp

"-treat me with anything other that _respect_! Just because _you_ like things rough, doesn't mean you may _manhandle_ me! Unlike _you_ , I don't wish to be _rut_ like a _dog_ in the _street!_ "

Green eyes flash angrily, but slip closed a moment later when the pink velvet of the Mayor's tongue finds her jaw and licks away the ugly red smear there; breaking up the movement to suck hard at the pale flesh of her throat while her teeth chafe delicate skin as she continues.

"But _you_ do, don't you dear? You like for it to hurt.. _.ah_... Oh, so good... Am I right? ...Hmm?"

The Mayor's words are sporadic; broken by her nips to the Sheriff's flesh and the struggle for breath as she grinds herself against the blonde with greater earnest. Emma simply replies by letting out a shuddering sigh and stroking her fingers reverently over the bare skin of Regina's back. She takes care not to graze slightly sweaty flesh with her nails; her hands dancing with a gentleness she wasn't aware she possessed.

"You like for it to be _dirty_... For it to be _messy_..."

The brunette continues her wet ministrations up the blonde's throat- erasing the trail of spilt blood- grazing her teeth and tongue along the latter's jaw, and occasionally pressing a harsh kiss to swollen lips.

"Because you _are_ dirty aren't you, Miss Swan? You're _filthy_..."

Any other time and the words would make her want to vomit with their cheap cliché, but as she rides the woman beneath her and whispers the words into hot, wanton flesh, she feels herself coming closer and closer to the brink, and the throaty half-moans leaving the blonde's mouth are only too telling. She releases the hand still tangled in Emma's hair and trails it down between them; playing it momentarily over scant lace, before roughly yanking the damp fabric to the side and slipping two fingers easily into between slick folds. Emma's eyes shoot open from their lust-induced half-mast and she cries out, only to have the sound swallowed swiftly by the brunette's mouth.

Regina chuckles and begins a slow rhythm with her fingers, the blonde's leg trembling under the weight of her body but still continuing to move valiantly, if a little awkwardly

" _Filthy_... What do you suppose people would think?... Their Sheriff lying on her back with her legs spread, liquored up and letting herself be touched like this?... What do you think your _sweet_ little housemate would make of it? If she really knew what her lovely... Little girl liked to get up to?"

"Shu- _ah_ \- shut up!"

Regina grins, wondering if she's hit a nerve, but with the way the blonde has her head thrashed to the side, eyes shut as she continues to pant and move her hips- as much as is possible in their current position- in accordance to the Mayor's fingers, it makes it impossible to say. The brunette wonders if it's merely a form of defiant habit and grins wickedly.

"Why? Am I _wrong_?... Don't you go claiming innocence _now_ , Sheriff... You _like_ this... You like it when I _fuck_ you..."

A low groan, and Regina smirks victoriously, before a strong leg suddenly hooks around hers and she finds herself toppling ungracefully off the sofa onto her back. A bone-cracking thunk, and she feels the floor next to her reverberate as the Sheriff's kneecaps connect painfully either side of her; a sudden weight crushing down on her stomach warmly.

Blonde tresses trail above her like vines, casting the Sheriff's face into shadow, but not so much so that the Mayor can't make out the telling gleam of white teeth grinning maliciously above her. She attempts to throw Emma off of her, but the blonde is strong and keeps her position easily. Regina gradually resists her urge to struggle; having to suffice with merely glaring petulantly up into that striking flash of teeth. Once the brunette stills, the Sheriff finally leans in closer, her hair falling softly over the Mayor's skin- devouring her- and whispering huskily into her ear

"That's right... I do..."


	7. Chapter 7

_"That's right... I do."_

Regina lets out a low groan of approval as the blonde drags her nails- feather light- over the taut expanse of her abdomen, raising a trail of goose-bumps in their wake. Silken gold whispers maddeningly over sunkissed flesh as Emma lowers her attention to the Mayor's chest. The brunette sighs as she feels a soft puff of air brush teasingly over her nipple, before the blonde takes the hardened nub into her mouth and coats her prize and the surrounding flesh with hot moisture. She releases the tender bud slowly, before blowing down once more; her breath turning glistening wetness instantly cold. She smirks to herself as Regina shudders beneath her, and dips the warm velvet of her tongue back to flesh and drags a hot, wet path to the brunette's other breast.

The Mayor moans quietly and drinks in the hypnotic waves of cornsilk that trail over her as the Sheriff continues her ministrations. The softly defined vertebra at the top of the blonde's spine ripple pleasantly beneath pale skin, but her face remains hidden behind the curtain of her hair. Regina extends her hand to move the soft curls out of the way- wanting to _see_ the younger woman's face, and the pink flash of her tongue- but Emma catches her hand deftly and forces it none too gently to rest above her head. The Sheriff reaches for its twin and repeats the motion, holding slender wrists captive as she moves to hover her lips above the brunette's; casting them both into near darkness as blonde tresses tumble over them like a shroud.

"Uh, uh- no touching."

"But... I _want_ to..."

The Mayor's tone is almost petulant; not used to being told 'no', and Emma gives a throaty chuckle as she keeps them in their shadowed prison.

"What a shame then, Madame Mayor, that you can't... Always... Get... What...You... Want..."

She alternates her words with deep kisses, before capturing Regina's lips completely and savoring the ghostly taste of apples that still lingers between them like a secret. The brunette huffs and twitches her wrists in the blonde's firm grasp, more on principle than with any real exerted effort towards being rewarded her release. Emma smiles and nips delicately at the Mayor's earlobe, before whispering into that pink shell dangerously; her voice low with warning.

"My handcuffs are in my coat pocket, don't make me use them..."

Regina instantly relents her half-assed struggling and lies perfectly still under the warm weight of the blonde. Recognizing submission, Emma places a final kiss to the Mayor's jaw before manoeuvring herself agilely to kneel between the brunette's legs. Regina cranes her neck up to watch her, but that maddening mass of hair still hides pretty, heightened features as Emma casts her attention down almost contemplatively. With clinical efficiency, she hooks two fingers into the waistband of the Mayor's underwear and drags scant silk down at a torturously slow pace. When she reaches the barrier the swell of the brunette's backside creates against the cold stone floor, she slips a hand beneath the space created by the curve of the darker woman's back and guides her to lift her hips just a little. With the garment free, she slides it easily down the Mayor's legs and casts it absently-mindedly behind her.

Regina feels her breath catch in her throat as the blonde studies her silently, letting it out shakily when pale hands push at her legs gently to open her up fully. Slim fingers flutter lightly over the insides of her thighs- skimming teasingly into the edges of neat, dark curls- before they travel back up to her raised knees as the blonde dips her head- her intent clear- and the Mayor finds her mind spinning as she struggles to comprehend their current situation.

She finds she doesn't really _give_ much of a care how they got here, once teasingly soft breath ghosts over her warm, exposed flesh.

" _Fuck..._ "

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to be patient?"

The Sheriff murmurs, her lips brushing the sensitive flesh at Regina's core while she muses, causing the darker woman's breath to hitch audibly.

The first few swipes of her tongue are softly experimental in their intimacy, as Emma breathes in the warm scent of the Mayor. Dipping deeper, she feels just how wet the other woman really is, and travels up to pull the swollen bundle of nerves waiting for her into her mouth. Regina cries out, and is only just able to stop herself as she instinctively moves to pull the Sheriff closer to her. Instead, she pushes her hips up wantonly, sighing blissfully as she is rewarded with another hard swipe of pointed velvet.

Emma continues her affections; setting her pace to match the quivering movements of the brunette's pelvis. Dragging a hand slowly up the Mayor's sex-slick thigh, she dips a finger into Regina's heat; corkscrewing up to find the place that results in a guttural groan up above her. She quickens her movements as slim legs begin to spasm tellingly, using her free hand to finally brush her hair away from her face.

Regina looks down and catches green eyes flashing up to find her own as the blonde increases the pressure; thrusting her fingers with ruthless vigour. She drops her head back with a cry; feeling warm waves of ecstasy begin to radiate out from her core. The Sheriff circles her fingers once more, before they become drenched in sweet nectar and the brunette clamps her legs tightly around her shoulders as she hisses out a choked string of curse words.

Eventually, the vice-like grip of Regina's thighs loosens; her limbs dropping weakly to the floor, leaving her spent and exposed as she catches her breath with one arm flung dramatically over her eyes. When she trusts herself with coherent thought, she gingerly regains her vision and props herself up onto her elbows to take in the blonde. Emma kneels patiently before her; eyes dark and hair forming a crazed mane and falling heavily over her pale form.

Naked but for the thin strip of lace that still remains.

Locking eyes with the darker woman spread before her, she lifts her glistening fingers to her mouth and licks them clean with an absurd display of etiquette.

The brunette reaches out; pulling the younger woman back down on top of her and dragging those wicked fingers from bruised lips. She moves them to her own mouth and tastes the combined wetness of her sex and Emma's tongue.

She is vaguely aware that the fire has burned away to nothing; the blonde's eyes glittering back at her feverishly in the semi-darkness.

Regina relinquishes the Sheriff's fingers and struggles to get up; pushing past the blonde who remains knelt where she is, her face carefully neutral as she watches the Mayor's nude form retreat towards the door. She feels a stab of irritation- quickly drowned by sickening awkwardness- as Regina leans down to gather up her discarded garments from floor before pulling her coat from the hook that hangs on the back of the solid oak door. Feeling hot color flushing across to her cheeks, Emma stands up stiffly- knees protesting painfully over their ordeal on the stone floor- and walks to the door; feeling suddenly exposed. She holds one hand primly across her chest as she extends the other to take her clothes from the Mayor. Regina smirks and flips her hair back in a way that shouldn't command the authority it does given the fact she remains completely naked.

"Hold out your hands, Miss Swan"

"What?"

The blonde's tone is familiarly irritable, and the Mayor suspects that- had she not been blushing bare- there would have been an eye-roll thrown in for good measure. Regina ignores the Sheriff's mediocre attempt at nonchalance and simply taps her bare foot impatiently as she regards the younger woman though bored. Finally, Emma removes the hand attempting to provide her with belated modesty and lets it hover next to the other in front of her; raising a brow in question at the irksome brunette.

"Good girl."

Regina drops the clothes bundled in her arms with liquid speed- knowing that without the element of surprise, the blonde's physical strength will surpass her own- and the Sheriff is vaguely aware of a gleam of silver and a metallic click, before the Mayor pushes her roughly against the door- forcing her arms up to extend almost painfully- and stepping away just as quickly as she'd come at her.

" _What the hell?_!"

Emma moves to lunge at the darker woman, but yelps as a sharp pain bites down her arms. She looks up above her to find her wrists encased in twin circlets of silver, fastened by a chain over the elaborately curved hook of the door. She recognizes her restraints instantly and growls at the woman that would have the audacity to use her own damn handcuffs to render her helpless.

" _Un-cuff me!_ "

"Oh, I don't think so, dear..."

Full lips curve into a sadistic smile. The blonde stretches up onto her toes in an attempt to unhook herself from the tricky metal curve nailed to the door, but its shape is such that what is slipped over the maddening spiral with relative ease is much trickier to remove.

"Come on, Regina, I can't get my hands over the fucking twist at the top!"

The Mayor laughs merrily, shaking her head as if Emma has just told a particularly amusing anecdote.

"Do you not think, Miss Swan, that that was _entirely_ the idea?"


	8. Chapter 8

Regina perches leisurely on the backrest of the sofa, her face cast in shadow as twilight filters softly into the room. She runs a finger repetitively over her bottom lip as if deep in thought; delicate features serene as she takes in the scene before her.

The tranquillity of the moment is not shared by the Sheriff, who lets out a sharp yelp as the crude metal of the handcuffs bites into her struggling flesh. After the first five minutes of swearing, rationalizing, and then swearing again, the blonde has given up appealing to the darker woman, and now instead just focuses her attention on the hook rendering her helpless; neck straining as she directs her anger up at the traitorous steel spiral.

The determination the younger woman exhibits is fascinating, but the brunette finds herself tiring of the silence, filled only with the occasional exasperated huff. She is not a woman who appreciates being ignored. What she _does_ appreciate is the way the Sheriff twists and turns her body in her attempt to free herself; her captured wrists forcing her to stretch upwards, and the muscles of her stomach to flex tantalisingly in the dim purple light of dusk.

" _Fuck_ this!"

The Mayor winces as the blonde resorts to simply yanking on the cuffs as hard as she possibly can; tutting as she thinks of the pretty pale flesh of skinny wrists becoming broken and bruised. She pushes herself off the couch and stalks over to her victim, who, if anything, wrestles at the restraints all the more vigorously upon her approach.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Miss Swan, but I believe your wrists will give in long before those cuffs will..."

"Yeah? Well, we're about to find out!"

Regina swiftly moves to stand directly opposite Emma, forcing the struggling young woman to look at her. She wants to have her fun with the blonde, and, if she's been reading her correctly so far, a little struggle and a little roughness will only serve to enhance the Sheriff's pleasure. What she _doesn't_ want is for Emma to hurt herself doing something stupid.

If she is to be in pain, Regina wishes to be its cause directly.

"Really, dear, why pretend you're not enjoying this?"

"No need to pretend; I'm _not_ enjoying this!"

Green eyes glare down at her angrily, and the near darkness that cloaks the room only adds to the mood. The Mayor studies her conquest with vague curiosity. Beneath the rage written all over Emma's face is something softer. At first, she had mistaken it for playful pretence, but on reflection, it looks almost like fear.

_Interesting._

"Are you sure?"

She adopts a syrupy-sweet tone; hoping to get another glimpse at the small indent created at the left side of the Sheriff's mouth when trying not to crack a smile. The blonde remains stoic however, and merely shakes her impressive mane.

"I don't _like_ being cuffed!"

Her voice is gruff and stern, as if scolding the brunette for such idiocies, but the Mayor can't remember the last time she witnessed someone ready to skin their wrists raw just because they didn't feel like playing a silly little game. Frowning, Regina feels a small wave of irritation and discomfort when she imagines she understands the _real_ reason why the blonde is less then thrilled at her predicament.

_One's past can be a bitch at times._

She keeps her enlightenment to herself however; she still wants to play out this scene.

Wants to test just how much willpower the younger woman truly possesses.

"Well, if you want me to let you down, all you need to do is ask..."

"Fine. Let me down."

"Oh come now, you can do better than _that_. What's the magic word?"

"Fuck you, Regina."

"Well... That's _definitely_ not how to go about getting your way"

She strokes a finger softly over a flushed cheek, earning herself another scowl from the Sheriff. At their close proximity and given the situation, the dark thunder that flashes in the younger woman's eyes is intoxicating. Exciting. She allows her attention to wander down the taut expanse of the blonde's torso; the latter's stomach firm and tight, and her breasts displayed most flatteringly in her forced stance. The red of the lace that still encases Emma's sex is dulled by the creeping darkness, and it becomes a shadow; a secret.

Regina lets her tongue run slowly over her bottom lip as she takes in the full picture the Sheriff creates. She can well imagine the feisty young woman's distaste at finding herself in cuffs once more. She thinks back to her previous musings upon Emma's time spent behind bars, and envisages the blonde just as pale- just as bare- in those harsh surroundings.

She imagines luscious hair and pretty complexion to be deceiving, however.

There is something hard in the blonde; bitter- like biting down on tinfoil- and she would put money on it that the young woman before her had played not the hunted, but the _huntress._

 _It's not the cuffs you don't like, it's the being caught. Being the 'bitch'... Because before now,_ you _decided on the rules._ You _controlled the game._ You _were Queen._

_Well, not anymore, sweetheart._

She can't deny that there is something utterly arousing in the thought of a younger, callower version of Storybrooke's pretty little Sheriff demanding and forcing her desires from the weak, doe-eyed girls she had been incarcerated with. Her mind momentarily flashes sordidly with the image of the blonde holding a shiv to a faceless girl's throat and stealing a kiss, before forcing the young thing down between her legs.

The logical specimen within the Mayor imagines she has a _ludicrously_ pornographic idea of women's prisons, but she allows herself to hope nonetheless.

And she can't speak for the Emma, but this situation just got hot as hell.

"If you want something from _me,_ _you're_ going to have to offer me something in return."

"I'm pretty sure I've already _given_ you something..."

The blonde growls at her. Regina grins wickedly, feeling the warmth between her legs increase with the memory of the Sheriff's expert tongue. She takes a step closer to the blonde- closing the space between them- and relishes the anger bestowed upon her by glittering eyes. Wrapping her arms around Emma's waist, she whispers low into her ear.

"And you were undeniably good at it... Tell me... How _does_ one become so adept at using their tongue?... To be honest, my dear, I never figured you for a submissive... But then, I bet life was a lot easier the last time you wore those pretty, _pretty_ silver bracelets if you were happy to take it on your knees-"

At her low, sultry declaration the blonde lunges forward; all teeth. Regina steps away swiftly, chuckling at the animalistic anger in her Sheriff's eyes. She recognizes the need to tread carefully however; she wants Emma on the verge of losing it, but she doesn't want to push her completely over the edge. She knows the blonde is strong- stronger than most- but everyone has their line not to be crossed, and she has no intention of spending the rest of the evening offering condolences and comfort.

Fortunately, she knows Emma to be the last person to _accept_ them.

Closing the distance between them once more, she grazes the Sheriff's throat with her teeth until the latter reluctantly tilts her head back to allow this onslaught of attention to pale skin. The brunette bites her experimentally- already having discovered the reward her sharp nips garner- listening out for the areas that cause a distinct hitch of breath or sigh from the blonde. As her mouth works delicate skin, her hands once more encompass Emma's waist, before traveling down to grab her ass crudely.

Possessively.

"All you have to do is say 'please'..."

She murmurs low into the blonde's ear; pulling away thick golden curls that impede her breath as she whispers. Emma retaliates by throwing her head to the side; shying away from Regina's lips in a way that makes the Mayor chuckle.

"Don't be so proud, dear..."

She finds the blonde's lips as she speaks; not willing to buy into the charade the younger woman exhibits. Her probing tongue is met with resistance as soft lips press together firmly, denying her entrance. The brunette refuses to be deterred... She _will_ get the Sheriff to beg.

Deft fingers trace over delicate red lace once more as Regina continues to kiss and nip at resisting lips. As she runs her hands over the younger woman's pale frame, she can feel the tremble of fine muscle beneath her palms; the position the blonde has been forced into taking its toll on aching arms.

Attention wandering downwards, she runs her fingers softly over the small dip created by the Sheriff's sex- poking a finger within damp fabric between slick folds- and is rewarded with a soft groan into her neck.

Hooking her finger into the delicate lace, she tugs it downwards, dragging scant underwear slowly over the swell of the blonde's ass, after which it falls to the floor with a flourish.

"Fuck..."

Her lip catches between her teeth as she takes in newly flesh revealed. The pale skin beneath her wandering eyes is bare in more ways than one and the Mayor hums appreciatively against Emma's collarbone, her eyes refusing to leave the sight so recently uncovered.

"... Well, I'll be..."

Emma shudders against her as she whispers into her throat, a small, broken sound escaping her lips as she grips the hateful chain of the handcuffs with desperate hands.

"Let me down, Regina..."

Her quiet request is met with a smirk as two fingers slide once more into the wetness of her sex, and the blonde cries out softly into a mass of chestnut hair. Regina begins to move her fingers faster; deliciously aware of the way the Sheriff trembles against her.

"All you need to do is ask _nicely_..."

She can feel the muscles of the blonde's core flutter against her intrusive fingers as the palm of her hand grinds purposefully a little higher, but _still_ she is refused a response. Working her fingers to a rapid blur, she bites down hard on a quivering clavicle, savoring the slightly salted taste as pale legs tremble dangerously.

"Just one little word, Sheriff..."

The panting in her ear teases her hair, and she grins as a soft keening sound starts to her left. She works her assaulting hand violently, while the other arm wraps around the younger woman's waist; catching the blonde just as her body goes limp with pleasure and pulling sweat-slick limbs closer to hers while kissing her deeply.

"Say it..."

Emma feels her knees buckle dangerously as her entire being feels set alight, and she groans into the soft curve of the brunette's shoulder. The pleasure is so intense it becomes painful as she struggles to keep herself upright to avoid ravaging her wrists on the cruel steel above her. The arm tightly embracing her waist feels firm- protective- but she knows Regina better than to believe the aiding limb will remain in place for much longer without encouragement.

_Fuck it if she thinks I'm going to beg..._

As the thought flashes scarlet across her mind, the fingers working their delicious magic between her legs begin to corkscrew and her knees tremble warningly. She can feel the waves of ecstasy threatening to carry her into oblivion, and she begins to pant harshly in time with each thrust of the brunette's expert hand. She wants to shut it out and deny the older woman the pleasure of victory, but she can feel herself becoming rapidly undone.

A soft lick from her sternum to her jaw cinches the deal, and she cries out as her inner-muscles flutter around the fingers buried deep within her sex; begging the brunette to catch her as she falls.

"Oh, _fuck!._.. Please... I can't... I ... _Please!_ "

Regina tightens her grip instantly at Emma's waist; keeping her from collapsing down for fear of the blonde ripping the skin of her wrists. As the quaking of the lithe body against her own begins to subside, she strokes her fingers gently up and down the sex-slick expanse of the blonde's spine.

"Shhhh..."

She runs her hands into luxurious waves of golden silk, cupping the blonde's head to her shoulder as she feels harsh, exhausted breath expelled against her skin. As the fluttering of air becomes softer and a little more regular, she gives one final squeeze- tugging at the pale curls in her hand- before releasing them and wordlessly stepping away from the spent, quivering body of the Sheriff.

"Just one little word, Emma..."

The blonde looks up slowly at the use of her first name and sighs as warm hands find her face once more; caressing her cheek softly.

"...Please..."

There is an audible click as Regina turns a silver key within the Sheriff's retrains, and a metallic thud as they fall to the floor. The Mayor reaches for the blonde's abused wrists when the latter begins to rub at them viciously in an attempt to bring back the circulation. She studies abused flesh thoughtfully, before pulling the blonde into a rough kiss once more while her fingers work over reddened flesh gently.

"See... That wasn't so hard..."

Green eyes flicker up to meet her gaze; heavy with lust and hate, and she chuckles as she offers the younger woman a violent kiss that is eagerly reciprocated.

"Fuck you, Regina..."

"Please...Sheriff..."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I will add a short note to this chapter as it is one that was commented on as being a little rough. If this is your first time reading this fic, the storyline does progress from here to explore a growing/ less hostile relationship (not to give too much away!). I'm trying to refrain from putting too many warnings here, there and everywhere, as the majority of the story doesn't need them, but yes, there are a few chapters that border on mild violence/ light S&M. I will make a brief mention when this seems applicable to bring up.

_"Fuck you..."_

_"Please... Sheriff..."_

The brunette smirks as she continues teasing soft tresses smugly; ready to make a smart quip about the Sheriff's high sex drive given her wording.

She never gets a chance to vocalise her chosen retort, as the air is suddenly knocked rudely from her lungs. With a yelp of surprise- not to mention a small helping of pain- Regina finds herself being grabbed by the upper arms with bruising force and spun unceremoniously around to be shoved up hard against the door.

The blonde's face- once she's whipped away the veil of her hair- is alight with anger, and the flash of her teeth holds no hint of her previous long-suffering, yet playful smirk. The Mayor drinks in this new version of the Sheriff warily; sensing an air of danger about the younger woman which is both tantalizing and a little unnerving.

"...Is there a problem, Sheriff?"

"I told you to let me _down_!"

Emma's voice breaks with low thunder that strikes the Mayor deliciously to her core, despite the force with which the blonde presses her forearm to her throat; pinning her in place. She smirks disdainfully at the woman panting hotly in her face; refusing to allow her growing concern for her current lack of oxygen show.

"And so I _did,_ dear, once you were _good_ and showed me some manners..."

She hates the strained quality of her voice, but the Sheriff seems barely to have even heard her. Strong fingers dig mercilessly into the soft flesh of her arms once again and Regina finds herself being thrown forcefully into centre of the room. She loses her footing when she tries to avoid slamming into the coffee table; gripping uselessly at plush fabric for purchase before she lands ungracefully on her knees between the sofa and table. The look she throws back behind her at the blonde is comprised of sheer shock; the brutality shown towards her something she is completely virgin to.

"What the _hell_ do you think you-"

" _I told you I didn't like being cuffed!_ "

In the impeding darkness, Emma casts an eery figure- luminescently pale- and her stance aggressive.

_Predatory._

Never before has the Mayor wished quite so desperately for the warming security of her powers.

"Miss Swan, I-"

"-Shut up."

Regina blinks at this sharp command in disbelief; turning awkwardly to face the blonde fully, but remaining down on her knees for the time being as she is wretchedly unsure about the current turn of events.

Despite witnessing the brunette's doubtful submission, Emma doesn't bat an eyelid. She is sure the older woman is expecting a smirk, a smile, _some_ form of recognition of their switch in positions... But this isn't _about_ that. She had expressed her displeasure for being strung up and rendered helpless, and knows full well that the Mayor has an understanding as to _why_ she would be so distraught at finding herself in such a predicament.

_If she wants to play dirty, then so be it. Let her see how much she really likes this fucked up version of role-play._

Emma throws the brunette a look of such venom that the darker woman remains frozen in place. There is something hard- metallic- in her normally intelligent eyes, and she kicks at the fallen cuffs that shimmer at her feet with disgust. Stalking slowly over to the discarded heap of her coat, she shucks it over her naked form swiftly, before turning back to the older woman still on her knees on the hard, stone floor. The blonde walks towards her lazily, relishing the way dark eyes glitter up at her displaying a silent war of wariness and want. Upon reaching the brunette, Emma simply stalks past her, plucking the near-empty carafe of cider from the table and taking it with her to perch on the lacquered top of the Mayor's desk. The latter turns once more to face her, and can't quell a visible shiver of lust as the blonde tips the cider to her lips; purposefully allowing it to trickle not just into her mouth but in sweet freshets down the pale skin of her throat, too.

The Sheriff casts a strangely regal silhouette; her bare form covered only by the coarse fabric of her parka; the hood pulled up to cast her features into shadow beneath the fur trim, and the tracks made down her neck and chest by the cider glistening temptingly. She crosses one leg over the other to hide her sex, and watches as the brunette sits warily back on her heels; still not quite daring to get up from her lowered position. The fact that the blonde's eyes are hidden in the darkness cast by her coat- leaving just the bruised sneer of her lips- causes Regina to feel the need to tread very carefully indeed.

"Miss Swan..."

She tries uncertainly. The Sheriff presses a slender finger warningly against her lips, but her expression remains otherwise unreadable. Despite it going against every fibre of her being, Regina lets her voice trail off into silence. The blonde allows the tension to build wordlessly between them a little while longer, before removing her finger from her mouth and dipping her hand into the deep pocket of her coat. When it resurfaces, its bounty is instantly recognizable for what it is.

She knows she can't actually _use_ the gun. Not for this game. Regina knows full well that she would never shoot her, and so her bluff would be too easily called. But, for the brief moment in which she holds the cool steel and the Mayor's eyes flicker nakedly up at her, she feels like a god. In fact, she feels the way she imagines _Regina_ had felt when observing her strung up in the cuffs... And this is a very _particular_ form of power play.

The Mayor made it so.

Not just by using the cuffs... But by whispering those hateful things about the blonde's time spent behind bars while keeping her tethered up like a lamb for sacrifice.

_Let's see how badly she really wants to know about that life now._

"Get up. Get up and come here."

Emma gives a faint upwards jerk of the gun to accompany her words, but her fingers remain wrapped around the butt; nowhere near the trigger. Regina pushes herself up cautiously to obey and the blonde places the weapon carefully to her side and waits as the brunette makes her way over. Once the the Mayor stands a couple of feet in front of her, she uncrosses her legs and lets her feet touch down onto the cool slabs of the floor; gaining back her height advantage. She beckons the darker woman with a crook of her finger and waits patiently as Regina closes the distance between them once more.

The brunette moves to caress the soft skin promised beneath Emma's coat cautiously. There is a dangerous charge in the air between them, and this newly discovered side to the Sheriff is making her extremely nervous. But, _with_ those nerves comes an aching heat between her legs, as the adrenaline coursing through her in response to the younger woman's actions has her feeling deliciously light-headed. Her wrist is caught instantly as she extends her hand towards Emma's stomach through the dark wings of her coat, and she gives a small grunt as she is quickly spun around so that her hips collide painfully with the edge of the desk; the blonde now stood behind her, breathing onto the exposed skin of her nape as she keeps a hold of her wrist at an awkward angle.

"I'm going to let go, and you're going to put your hands down flat on the table. Both of them. Slowly."

It's a low murmur in her ear and Regina nods silently; apprehensively curious to see where this is going. True to Emma's word, her wrist is released from its painful hold behind her back, and she brings it down so that her hand rests parallel to the other on the hard surface of the desk. The blonde praises the action huskily and leans over her exposed form in order to snatch up something from across the table in a glitter of silver; her legs brushing distractingly against the smooth skin at the backs of the brunette's thighs in the process.

"Now, push all this shit off the table."

Regina rolls her eyes despite her predicament; the request too reminiscent of badly scripted secretary porn to be taken seriously. Her failure to comply is swiftly reprimanded however, and she lets out a shocked gasp as slender fingers wind roughly into her hair; pulling her head back to expose her throat. The chilling sensation that follows of metal on flesh sparks her first _real_ flicker of fear, and she gasps once more as the blonde presses the sharp edge of the steel letter-opener more forcefully against the fragile underside of her jaw.

"Oh my God..."

"Most people just call me Emma..."

There is little humor present in the Sheriff's tone in spite of her contrary quip, and she keeps the cold steel carefully in place; offsetting its chill as her heat presses firmly against the Mayor's backside. Regina closes her eyes, overwhelmed by how this situation is affecting her; she is both ridiculously aroused, and at the same time becoming more and more unsure of her safety at the blonde's hands.

"Let's try listening, _shall_ we?"

A purposeful dig with the sharp point of the instrument to her throat and the brunette shudders, as for the first time she feels a mild hint of pain. She removes her hands from their rigid position on the table top- leaving behind two crescents of sweat from her palms- and sweeps the various papers and documents from the large desk in one smooth motion. It doesn't go unnoticed by either of them that Emma's gun is amongst the items to hit the floor- making a hollow clunk as it lands- but the blonde seems to pay the loss of her weapon little mind. Her attention remains on the implement currently pressed to the Mayor's jugular.

"Good"

She speaks the word into the salted skin of the Mayor's throat; not quite kissing, but letting her lips brush teasingly against flesh.

"Now, get up onto the table. On your back."

Emma steps away just enough to allow the brunette room to comply, and the latter can't help but feel a slight pang of disappointment at the loss of contact between her bare flesh and the blonde's. A part of her seethes angrily at the Sheriff's gall in demanding her way; not used to following orders under _any_ circumstance. The rest of her- the part that craves release from the ache the younger woman has been expertly nurturing between her legs- is eager to comply, and she lets this latter part win out.

Moving gracefully to the edge of the desk, Regina hoists herself up onto the cold, flat surface before shimmying her hips so that she sits a little closer to the centre. Throwing the blonde a loaded look, she reclines down onto her back. The desk is large, and allows for the lip at the edge to comfortably support the drape of her legs at the knee, while still giving her enough room above her head so that her upper body is completely supported. She lets her hands dangle off to the sides, and hopes her chest isn't too flushed with obvious arousal. She isn't exactly _sure_ what to expect, but when the Sheriff makes no immediate move, she cranes her neck up curiously to find Emma running the steel point of the letter-opener thoughtfully over her bottom lip.

_Dear God, I will never be able to look at that thing again without getting aroused..._

The Sheriff removes the sharp implement from her lips and resumes her silent observation, the brunette becoming unnerved once more as she still can't make out the younger woman's eyes beneath her hood.

"I told you I didn't like being cuffed..."

Emma finally offers, and Regina sighs; boring of this monotonous line of conversation. Once more she fishes for a fitting comeback, but only gets so far as rolling her eyes before she is accosted with the sharp prick of the letter-opener, this time against the peak of her hip bone. She quietens instantly; forcing herself to remain still. The dangerous steel drags gently up her stomach to play across her ribs; hard enough to leave slow, reddening lines in its wake but careful not to cut. Emma takes in the distinct quickening of the Mayor's breath- coming now at what is almost a pant- and allows herself a small smile.

"You said you wouldn't ask me how I got my scar if I didn't want to tell you... Perhaps, I ought to _show_ you..."

Shaking her head, Regina instantly makes to call an end to their charade; her arousal now truly overshadowed by her fear, but a warning jab from the metal currently skimming the underside of her left breast keeps her frozen in place. At a pace that is cruelly slow, the sharp point of the letter-opener drags back down the valley of her breasts before lingering towards one side to graze over her ribs. When Emma reaches the place on the brunette's torso where the scar mars her own flesh, she increases the force with which she presses the blade into the Mayor's skin; leaving behind a clear, raised line to mirror her own. Easing up the pressure as she reaches the point just above the brunette's navel, she erases any memory of pain as she continues grazing the cool steel down Regina's stomach to skim into the neat curls at her mound, before letting it whisper momentarily against her glistening wetness and leaving a thin trail of her arousal down her inner thigh.

"Damn..."

Regina whispers as the blonde casually wipes the blade free of the Mayor's excitement using the bare skin of her thigh, before stalking around to the end of the table at which the Mayor's head rests. Looking up into the shadow of the blonde's hood, the brunette is finally able to make out her eyes, and the hard lust in them just about pushes her over the edge.

"I'm sorry..."

She's not sure if she really means it, but its the only sensical thing that comes to mind, and she imagines its what Emma has been waiting for. She doesn't really care either way, she just needs release.

"No you're not. But you _will_ be..."

With this, the blonde clambors up onto the table, resting so that she straddles the brunette's chest; restricting her breath. Regina gasps, the position offering her a spectacular view, but causing her lungs to feel as though they're on fire. Emma runs the flesh-warmed blade lightly over the Mayor's lips- leaving behind the faint flavor of metal and lust- before leaning down to sample some for herself. The matted fur of her hood brushes teasingly across the brunette's hair and face, and is heavy with the smell of rain.

Once Regina's eyes slip closed, the Sheriff manoeuvres herself with a peculiar display of grace. She travels up the body of the Mayor until she kneels- hovering- above the darker woman's lips; the toggles of her coat dragging lightly over hot flesh as she moves.

_And parkas, I will never be able to look at parkas the same way..._

" _Show_ me you're sorry..."

Emma's tone still holds a detached note of brittleness that makes her command impossible to deny.

Not that the Mayor has any intention to do so.

She runs her hands up the smooth skin of the blonde's thighs and presses her palms gently but pointedly against the taut muscle that lines their insides; communicating that the younger woman should spread her legs wider to bring her lower. The Sheriff complies, stretching easily, and brings her heat closer to the brunette's waiting mouth. Regina renews her grip on the blonde's thighs, and runs her tongue slowly over glistening folds.

As the blonde's breathing becomes broken and irregular, the Mayor pulls her down completely; teasing her mercilessly until she feels lightheaded with lack of air and the sinewy muscle beneath her palms begins to flex sporadically in time with her sweet torture.

Emma rides out her pleasure with her weight on her knees, rising up just enough to allow the woman beneath her to breathe as slender fingers stroke at the hot flesh of her thighs. Once she regains control of her limbs, she swings herself easily off the desk and returns the gaze of the dark eyes glittering up at her. She bends down to taste herself on parted lips- the brunette still spread like a prize on the desk- and gently flutters her fingers over lust-hooded lids in a silent request that the Mayor keep her eyes closed.

Regina complies all too happily. She can feel her wetness coating the insides of her thighs; the act of tasting the younger woman more arousing than she would have believed. Her skin still burns with the memory of the blade, but despite her vague discomfort at not being able to place where she suspects the blonde to be within the room, she is now certain she will come to no actual harm. Finally, after what seems like hours, soft lips brush against hers once more before the Sheriff murmurs in her ear.

"Perhaps you should cover yourself up, _dear..._ "

The Mayor's eyes shoot open and she sits up to see the blonde fully dressed and turning for the door.

"What the hell do you think you're _doing_!?"

"Going home; it stopped raining about an hour ago."

" _But_ -"

"-Goodnight, Regina."

Emma smiles sweetly, giving a small wave of her hand as though bidding a dear friend farewell, and this in itself reeks of malice. The Mayor jumps angrily to her feet; her sex hot and wanting and her mind reeling.

"Miss Swan! If _you_ think-"

But the door swings briskly shut as the blonde leaves in a flurry of curls and coat. Brutally aware of her nude state, the Mayor stops herself as she makes to ensnare the contemptuous little harlot by any means necessary. Breathing heavy and cheeks scarlet with rage, she clenches her fists and lets out a choked string of curse words. As she turns to slam her fist down onto the desk, she catches a gleam of silver peaking up at her from the darkness and moves hesitantly forward to pick up the Sheriff's forgotten gun. Twisting the cool metal in her hands, her pleasantly full lips form a sinful smirk; her body glowing in the moonlight.

"I suppose you'll be wanting this back... Well, I'll be sure to stop by to return it to you, dear."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Damn those morning afters ;)

The Sheriff sits scrolling through the sweet but decidedly pointless text lighting up her phone in the farthest booth of the Diner. Rolling her eyes in a display of irritation she doesn't truly feel, she quickly taps back a reply to let Mary Margaret know that yes, she is having an okay day- although, in her mind, the question seems moot when placed at eleven AM- and yes, she will be home for dinner. She wonders briefly where the hell the peculiarly doting schoolteacher imagines she would _otherwise_ spend her evening, but supposes she should treat the question as fair given last night's events.

She cringes a little at the memory.

_"Emma! Oh God, oh, thank God!"_

_"Hey! What's up!? What's wrong?"_

_Mary Margaret pulls the blonde into an embrace so tight that the latter wonders if their entire friendship has been nothing but a ploy towards her eventual asphyxiation, before pushing her away to study her at arms length._

_"Oh,_ Emma!"

_Pale hands flutter feverishly over the damp fabric of her coat and Emma stares back at her housemate in alarm; the pallor to Mary Margaret's already pale complexion currently second in line for her concern next to the unquestionable stench of alcohol on the schoolteacher's breath; heavily noticeable due to their close proximity._

_"I'm here! What's going on? Are you ok!?"_

_"Me!? Me- I'm_ fine! _I should be asking_ you! _Where on earth have you_ been _? I was so worried! I came downstairs and you'd left without saying anything-"_

_"-I was working, I had to make sure no one was getting into troub-"_

_"-After you told_ everyone _else to stay put! I_ guessed _you might have gone out to check up on things though, so I decided to just wait it out... But then the rain stopped and you weren't back and it was getting dark and..."_

_Bright green eyes begin to well up, and the blonde is terrified her housemate is about to begin bawling right here in the living room._

_"Hey! It's fine, it's fine,_ I'm _fine... I just had some car trouble is all!"_

 _"You went out in your goddamn_ car! _? Oh, Emma! You_ idiot! _What if you'd come off the road?"_

_"Well... I kind of did..."_

_"_ What _?!"_

 _"Calm down! Jeez! You'd think you'd thought I was_ dead _or something!"_

 _"It's ten o'clock at night! I had no way of getting hold of you, the roads are a deathtrap, next door's window was smashed in by a flying branch which almost_ decapitated _Miss Ginger... The worst storm to hit this town in over a century and you go off to play in it! You were gone for_ hours. _.. I just thought..."_

_Emma grunts as the air is once more forced from her lungs; Mary Margaret pulling her into a tight embrace that expresses all the things she can't bare to say. The Sheriff pats her on the back awkwardly, feeling a little guilty._

_"Hey, come on, I'm_ fine _... I'm sorry I took so long to get back; my car broke down ages away and I... Got lost..."_

_She offers the sniffing woman a reassuring grin and turns to help herself to a now much needed shot of whisky from the bottle waiting on the island counter. She pours herself a couple of fat fingers into a tumbler plucked from the drying rack, and tops up Mary Margaret's with just a half in her- well used, it would appear- glass resting beside the bottle._

_The Schoolteacher takes the proffered drink from her gladly, and returns the blonde's slightly crooked grin with her own sheepish smile. She perches on one of the rickety old stools that flank the kitchen island and watches her housemate shuck her sodden coat and hang it on the stand by the door. The blonde goes to remove her damp sweater as well, but suddenly seems to think better of it._

_"You should take that off, you'll catch a cold. Here; I put a sweatshirt in the tumble dryer for you so it'd be warm... It's probably cooled down by now, but it'll be nicer that wearing that damp thing."_

_Emma shrugs awkwardly; overwhelmingly touched by the gesture, but not wanting to risk any curious bruises or marks being exposed to her housemate._

_"I'm good, seriously, stop fussing, I'm fine."_

_"I know you're fine; you're_ always _fine. I just thought you'd like to... What happened to your lip?"_

_Before the blonde has time to react, the schoolteacher leans over the counter to cup her face in warm hands and gently pulls at the bruised flesh of her bottom lip with her thumb._

_"Ouch..."_

_"What happened?!"_

_The concern on the raven-headed woman's face is simply unbearable and the Sheriff pulls quickly away; tipping back the whisky that remains in her glass, before hurrying towards the ladder to her loft-room._

_"It's nothing, I just fell in the wet mud and I guess I must've bit down on my lip... It doesn't hurt, honestly! I'm pretty damn beat though, so I'm gonna call it a night... So...Umm... G'night!"_

_She barely avoids falling down them in her hurry to get up the stairs and out of her housemate's studious gaze, leaving Mary Margaret to pour the rest of her drink down the drain; the schoolteacher coming to the conclusion that- without her mind throwing her hateful images of the blonde lying in a ditch every five minutes- whisky is a truly awful beverage._

Now, with her fingers tapping over the buttons of her phone rapidly, the blonde seems wrapped up in her own little world. Her cheeks are still slightly pink from the brutal chill outside, and she has swapped yesterday's parka for red leather. Her hair is freshly washed and golden curls bounce softly about her shoulders. Her lips are pleasantly dark with burgundy stain; an attempt to disguise the purplish bruising beneath that has actually come off rather favorably.

"Mind if I join you?"

She glances up distractedly, before breaking into a grin and scooting over to make room beside her despite the empty bench opposite.

"Hey, kid."

Henry beams up at her and makes himself at home on the slightly cramped bench. She allows him to take her phone from between her fingers and bring up one of the numerous games she has downloaded for them to play; watching with amusement as his tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth in concentration. She waves over to Ruby who comes trotting over on sky-scraper heels with her teeth bared in a blindingly white grin.

"Emma! What can I get you?"

"Could you get Henry a hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate with extra cream and marshmallows, got it... You want one too?"

"I probably shouldn't..."

" _Two_ hot chocolates with extra cream, marshmallows _and_ cinnamon? Well, if you say so!"

She winks at the blonde- who rolls her eyes before offering a funny little salute- and sashays lazily over to the kitchen to start up the order.

Emma watches amiably over Henry's shoulder as he goes about collecting pixel nuggets with his ever-growing snake and gives him a couple of pointers which go cordially ignored.

"Aw, _crap_ , I lost!"

"Never mind kid, there's copious sugar on its way to drown your sorrows. And don't go using that word around Regina or she'll _really_ be after my ass."

"Oh, I wouldn't presume any such interest, Miss Swan."

Emma and Henry look up simultaneously with an eerily similar expression of wary surprise as the Mayor slides easily into the booth to sit opposite them.

"Are you bothering the Sheriff, Henry?"

"Of course he's not _bothering_ me!"

"Now, _that's_ funny, because you would _think_ that after a storm of the magnitude we experienced yesterday, the town's Sheriff would be out leading a recovery mission or sat behind her desk at the station beneath a mound of paperwork; much too _busy_ to be chatting away to my son..."

"I spent the entire _morning_ taking calls and doing paperwork, Regina, I'm entitled to lunch!"

"Oh, of course you are, dear- a girl's got to eat- it was merely an observation."

The blonde scowls at the Mayor haughtily, while Henry returns his attention nervously to his game. Ruby saunters over with two mugs brimming with calories and places them down on the table, glancing warily at the group's new addition.

"Would you like anything, Mayor Mills?"

"No, dear."

Regina sniffs, giving a distracted wave of her hand as if trying to rid herself of an irksome fly, and the usually chirpy waitress retreats swiftly back to the service counter.

"Thanks, Ruby!"

Emma calls over from their booth, giving the younger woman an overcompensating grin, before turning back to the brunette angrily.

"Well _that_ was rude."

The Mayor ignores her in favor of looking upon Emma's order in disbelief. The hot chocolate the waitress has brought over is easily double the regular size- whether a perk of being the Sheriff, or simply one of Ruby seeming to have taken a liking to her, the blonde can't say for sure- and slathered with fluffy white cream, fat pink marshmallows and dusted with cocoa and cinnamon.

"What is _that_?"

"Hot chocolate..."

Emma inwardly admits she feels ever so slightly sheepish staring down at the mug that requires two hands to support it, but there is no way in _hell_ she's going to let the brunette in on this fact. To prove her point, she swipes her finger through the lavish topping of cream and brings it to her mouth, where the deep hue of her lipstick contrasts with the bright white shockingly before she licks herself clean.

The Mayor watches this little display without expression, although dark coals follow every sly flick of the blonde's sharp tongue. Once the Sheriff's finger glistens cleanly, the brunette clears her throat and turns her attention to her son; plucking the phone from between his fingers and placing it before Emma without offering her a second glance.

"Henry, you go take this _ridiculous_ drink back to Miss Lucas and ask her for some water."

"But-"

"No buts! Go on now."

Henry glowers up at his mother, before casting an appealing glance at the Sheriff who offers him a sympathetic eye-roll but doesn't go so far as to fight his corner. Grumbling, he slides from the booth and walks carefully with the oversized mug towards the counter, where Ruby waits with a raised brow.

" _Jeez_ , Regina, it was just a little hot chocolate, it wasn't going to kill him!"

The Mayor studies the blonde- unamused- before curling her lip in a disdainful sneer as the latter lifts her own hot chocolate to her mouth and attempts to drink with an air of dignity. The cream messily coating her lips does little to help her cause.

"There was nothing _little_ about it, Miss Swan, and I would appreciate it if you didn't take it upon yourself to fill my son up with sugar."

"Oh, come _on_ , you couldn't just let the kid enjoy himself for once?"

"That is a _highly_ inappropriate comment; what I do and do not allow my son to do is entirely _my_ business, Sheriff... But I, for one, do not stoop to winning his favor with the promise of _treats_..."

"I wasn't _trying_ to 'win his favour'!"

"I should hope not."

Emma gives the darker woman a withering look, before pointedly dropping her attention to peruse her phone. She shuffles her legs absent-mindedly to the side as a Jimmy Choo heel makes contact with her muddy boot, only to have the action swiftly repeated. Frowning, but keeping her attention on the cell in her hand, she moves her feet once again, only to have a slim foot encased in patent black leather forced pointedly between her own. She glances up questioningly, but the Mayor simply returns her scowl with a more refined version of her own.

Down below her ankles are swiftly kicked apart.

"So, I trust you've been making a start on the numerous insurance claims thrown up by the storm then, Sheriff?"

"I... _uh..._ "

Emma looks up, startled, as the brunette slowly proceeds to caress her jean-clad calf with the toe of her shoe. She keeps her ankles awkwardly spayed apart, but instinctively slams her knees together in resistance to Regina's wandering foot.

"After all, there's a lot to be sorted out, I imagine..."

"Yes, I started the relevant paperwork as soon as I got in- _oh!_ "

The Mayor kicks sharply at the blonde's shins once more- causing the younger woman's legs to part reflexively- but keeps her face carefully expressionless as she cocks her own leg to brush the sole of her shoe swiftly between the Sheriff's knees before coming to rest at her thigh; marvelling at the slow blush creeping across Emma's cheeks.

"Good. We can't stand the risk of anyone being left... Disappointed..."

Regina smiles sweetly as she inches her foot slyly closer to the blonde's core; the hard sole of her shoe dragging roughly over stiff denim.

"They won't be..."

Emma replies through gritted teeth as the toe of the brunette's shoe nuzzles distractingly against the zipper of her jeans.

"You seem _mighty_ sure of yourself, Miss Swan... Is that promise?"

I'm doing my- _ah_ \- best!"

The blonde's eyes widen as the Mayor presses her foot higher; crushing the toe of her sole into the taut muscle below the Sheriff's navel, while pushing the sharp point of her heel firmly against the younger woman's denim-clad sex.

"Is that so?"

"Yes..."

Emma hisses as the Mayor's heel grinds against her deliciously. She reprimands her mutinous body angrily as it immediately responds to the brunette's ministrations; the soft cotton at her apex instantly damp and her pale cheeks flushed with excitement. She keeps her expression clinically neutral as she continues to survey the older woman before her, desperately fighting the urge to thrust her hips forward to increase the pressure where she needs it.

"Good... Come on, Henry, we're going."

The blonde's attention snaps rapidly to her left where her son approaches their booth with drooped shoulders. Struggling momentarily to access a fitting expression- her mind reeling with the constant digging against her core- she throws him a slightly shaky grin as she takes an awkward sip from her cooling hot chocolate.

"See you soon, kid, keep out of trouble."

Henry sighs and offers the Sheriff a dotingly fond smile that causes the brunette to stab her heel down with brutal force. She smirks inwardly as the younger woman bites back a cry, and swiftly removes her leg; sliding easily out of the booth.

"My son never got _into_ trouble until you came along, Sheriff!"

Emma rolls her eyes at the Mayor; a gesture that would probably earn her a more agitated response if not for the scarlet tinge to her cheeks and blown-out pupils.

"Right, Miss Swan, I shall be round at some point today to return an item of lost property, and I would _appreciate_ it if you made yourself... Decent to receive..."

She offers a nod of her head towards the Sheriff's half inside-out collar, but her pretty, plump lips pull back into a smirk that is all malice.

"In the meantime, get back to work... I'd hate for anyone to be left... _Unsatisfied_... By your actions..."

Emma chokes abruptly on her hot chocolate; eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline.

"Are you ok?"

Henry asks, and he quickly shuffles closer to give her a companionable smack on the back, making her wince.

"Yeah, kid, I'm good; just went down the wrong way. Go catch up with your mom."

She nods over to Regina who retreats steadily towards the Diner's murky glass door, and Henry offers her a final grin before scampering off in the same direction. Wiping the back of her hand over her mouth, Emma rests her oversized mug back on the table and raises her voice to get the older woman's attention.

"I'll see you later then, Madame Mayor... And I'll be ready..."


	11. Chapter 11

Leaning gracefully across the ornate surface of her dressing table, the Mayor carefully applies a flawless coat of scarlet lipstick; the tone reminiscent of expensive shiraz. She muses pensively on the darkened shade favored by the blonde that afternoon in the Diner; a deep burgundy which had lent her an almost vampish quality. This, and the red blossoms of the Sheriff's own blood, are the only times she has seen the younger woman with her lips painted, and there is something unnerving about the way it offsets her pale features. The brunette supposes some women- such as the irksome Swan woman- are destined to be natural beauties, while others- if the bombshell reflected back at her in the lavish mirror is anything to go by- can pull off a little heightened drama.

A touch of class.

Flashing her teeth, she turns her head to the side to check none of her lipstick has wandered, before offering her reflected self a sinful smirk and primping fussily at her hair. She has changed outfits since her encounter with Emma at Granny's; trading charcoal gray for satin black, and she assesses the result appreciatively. The suit she now wears is a piece of impeccable craftsmanship, its tailoring unfit for any inferior frame to her own. The black dress pants and matching blazer speak of wealth and luxury, while remaining carefully suited to her projected town image. The silk shirt she dons beneath however, is creamy and ever so slightly sheer; normally not an issue when paired with nude lingerie, but the black balcony bra she currently wears creates a tantalizing shadow.

Perching on the plush throw that adorns her bed, she slips her feet smoothly into black, patent heels. There is a flutter in her stomach as she goes about preparing herself to leave that she waves easily aside. She supposes she _could_ sit a while longer and analyze the peculiar situation in which she finds herself, but she is simply not the sort. She is perfectly comfortable within herself and therefore pays the sudden changes in her relationship with the Sheriff little mind. She detests the younger woman just as much today as she has in the weeks before; the fact that the blonde has turned out to be remarkably desirable- a fact, the brunette muses cruelly, that Emma keeps a well guarded secret- is simply one redeeming feature in a minefield of flaws. As such, she simply plans to make the most of a bad situation.

Stalking over to the door to don her overcoat, a malicious smirk alights her reddened lips as she is willing to bet just about everything she owns that the blonde will not see things _quite_ so straightforwardly.

* * *

Emma sits with her feet propped up on the weathered desk of her office, rocking precariously on the back legs of a rickety chair and nipping occasionally at the bottle of Jim Beam she grips in a white-knuckled fist. Her long hair looks as though she has spent the better part of the afternoon sticking her finger in an electrical socket with the way it tumbles haphazardly in every direction but the right one. In reality, it is her hands which are to blame; wriggling nervously through golden curls over and over.

The high windows that line the Station's two jail cells bleed twilight, and she is thankful for the fact she'd had the good sense to text Mary Margaret about five shots ago to let the schoolteacher know she was having to stay late.

She rewards herself with a swift swig from the bottle.

She had been alright up until early afternoon; a little apprehensive, sure, but the stubborn streak within her nature refusing to let the Mayor's coy, suggestive words intimidate her. But, as the hours and minutes had ticked by with no sign of the bothersome brunette, her mind had slowly begun struggling to analyze the situation, and the more she would push aside bothersome thoughts and theories, the more her stomach had begun to crawl with trepidation.

With her body devoid of the sweet thrumming comfort from the darker woman's cider, she has found herself confused and muddled in her thoughts.

At four PM she had slipped briefly from the office- eyes scanning her surroundings feverishly as she had jogged to the small convenience store on the corner; ready to catch Regina, as if she'd believed the brunette might be lying in wait to ambush her- and purchased the economy sized bottle of bourbon she now nurses.

She had forbidden herself from taking more than a quick sip, due to her still being on the clock- and, should the Mayor happen to walk in and smell the whisky... Taste the whisky... On her breath, she doubts the end result would be pleasant- but that was two hours ago now, and the bottle is halfway empty, and her nerves are shot and she feels both much too warm and chilled to the bone.

"Fuck..."

The logical side to her knows that she should just pack up shop and head home. The night is still fairly young, and the thought of spending it finishing off the bottle she currently nurses under the quietly disapproving- but always kind eye- of Mary Margaret while they discuss the ins and outs of nothing in particular- a companionable act she had never partaken in before moving in to her little bedroom in the loft- is rather appealing.

The part of her that is everlastingly stubborn- coupled with the warm ache between her legs- keeps her balancing on the chair. She has often thought the two might be perpetually linked in her case, and imagines this to be the cause of a high proportion of the trouble she's found herself in over the years.

_Damn poster-child for hate sex._

Her lip curls at the thought, and she takes yet another sip of bourbon; wincing as the hard glass of the rim rubs against her damaged bottom lip.

The fact that she has in no way managed to get her head around what had occurred between herself and the Mayor in the sober light- well, twilight- of day only serves as _one_ factor to her apprehension, however. The other is the knowledge that the brunette will most definitely be out for revenge.

_Well she's already pulled the act with the damn cuffs, it'll be hard to beat that!_

"Let her try..."

As if on cue, she cocks her head- fox-like- to the side as a soft click sounds from down the hallway. The silence that follows is heavy, and she holds her breath to better decipher any further signs of life. After what seems to be an extortionately long time, her well-trained ear picks up on the ever so faint tap of stiletto heels on treated stone. The interval between each stealthy click is telling of one wishing to sneak in unheard, and she has the sudden, bizarre urge to hide behind the door and jump out on the brunette when she enters.

"Boo, bitch..."

Instead, she gently lowers the hovering legs of her chair to rest back upon the ground, and takes a final swallow of bourbon before placing the bottle surreptitiously beneath her desk. She straightens her jacket around her shoulders, pulls her top free of creases- while effectively dragging the neckline down by a delightful inch to allow just a hint of cleavage- and straightens her legs to cross her feet in front of her on the desk once more. She gives herself a moment to pull in a deep breath, before letting it out and fixing herself with a neutral, almost bored expression.

A shadow falls across the threshold, before being broken by the pointed toe of an expensive shoe. Regina comes into view and gives the blonde a distasteful once over. The younger woman looks much the same as always; dressed like some cheap protagonist from a shitty adventure novel.

Emma catches the brunette's eyes roving over her clinically, and allows her own to do the same; taking in the flawless silhouette created by the Mayor's suit. It nips her in at the waist and gives her legs an almost unholy length, while dropping perfectly to show off painful looking heels. The creamy silk that glistens beneath her jacket catches the light exquisitely, and the blonde finds herself momentarily mesmerized as she tries to get a better glimpse of the black lace that forms a tantalizing shadow at the brunette's chest.

"Sheriff."

"Madame Mayor."

The blonde makes no move to get up for her guest, and Regina drops her eyes disdainfully to the mud-caked soles of leather boots. The brunette can detect the definite scent of alcohol lingering in the airless room, and she weighs up the pros and cons of calling the younger woman on it. In the end, she decides to let it slide. After all, she is certain that she is the _cause_ of the Sheriff being driven to drink- at least she is _this_ afternoon- and there is something so endearingly, pathetically _flattering_ about that.

"You said you had something of mine?"

Emma's voice is gruff; laced with disinterest in her attempt at commanding authority. The Mayor wonders if the blonde realizes how _tiresome_ this little habit is; having been subjected to it for the best part of four months. Her _actual_ tone- when not being so concerned with coming across the regular, stoic hard ass- is one the brunette in fact finds surprisingly pleasant.

Second to the soft cries elicited from bloodied lips last night.

"I do."

Regina's own words come out in their familiar sultry purr, but she offers no further comment or move. A shapely brow raises back at her irritably as baited silence follows the Mayor's words. Finally, the blonde gives an exasperated huff and throws her hands up in question.

" _Well_?"

"There's no need to get snippy with me, Miss Swan. I have come here to return something of yours out of my own good will, so you could at the very _least_ pretend to be grateful."

"Ok, fine, what is it that you have so _graciously_ kept me here after hours to give back?"

"... And that irritable tone is _most_ unappealing..."

"Just give it to me, Regina..."

"Say please..."

The brunette smirks as the Sheriff rolls her eyes in frustration.

"Don't start."

"Don't start _what_? I am merely suggesting you show some manners."

"Whatever... Ok, fine. _Please_ can I have it?"

"Better. But not good enough."

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

Emma swings her legs off the desk to stand with her hands spread on its weathered surface; her stance every bit as impatient and hostile as her expression. The Mayor pays this little mind, but _does_ make a small note to herself that- whether uttered in irritation or ecstasy- something about the way the blonde curses demands her immediate arousal.

"Rudeness will get you nowhere, Sheriff..."

"I'm _tired!_ Just give me whatever it is you came to give me... I have _no_ interest in playing games."

The smirk on scarlet lips deepens as the Mayor greets this statement with no concern. If there were any truth to the blonde's words, she would have left the station hours ago.

But, instead, she has stayed. Just as the brunette was almost _certain_ she would.

"Hush"

" _Don't_ tell me to-"

"-Turn around."

"What?"

That low tone again; angry, and so boringly caged. Regina sighs, and gives a slow, impatient twirl of her finger.

"If you didn't hear me, the correct response would be 'pardon', but I know full well that you _did_. In which case, your question would imply you didn't understand my meaning, and if _that's_ the case, I'd be more than happy to assist you, dear?"

She adds an inflection to the end of her statement, questioning sweetly. The disbelieving look on the Sheriff's face is perfection, and the brunette feels the heat between her legs intensify as the younger woman's anger thrums electrically.

Nevertheless, she knows Emma will comply; after all, she has stayed this long.

Narrowing her eyes murderously, the blonde turns to face the filing cabinets behind her.

"Good girl..."

The brunette allows herself a moment of uninhibited admiration for pert denim now on display, before moving from her position in the doorway to take a seat in the visitor's chair across the desk from where the Sheriff stands with her back to her.

"Take off you jacket."

She is ready for further argument at this command, and can tell from the way the blonde's shoulders square visibly that she is battling down the urge to snap back at her. For this reason, she is relieved when the younger woman's anger remains bottled up; the game of stripping the Sheriff sure to become tedious if alternated with heated debate between the removal of each garment.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the rage that threatens to volcanically erupt, Emma forces her mind to savor the warm aftertaste of the bourbon, and lets her leather jacket fall to the floor heavily. Silence follows, and although the room is not particularly cold, she can feel her skin break out into goose flesh.

Regina smiles to herself; the blonde's act of submission in removing her jacket setting the tone for this little encounter. Her eyes travel the well-toned expanse of the Sheriff's arms and back; the latter encased in cheap black fabric she highly doubts is a hundred percent cotton. She ponders once more on the younger woman's impeccable physique despite seeming to do absolutely _nothing_ to deserve it, and makes a vague mental note to investigate further. She has a feeling that if she were to take it upon herself to tail the blonde- for humiliation purposes only, of course- into the woods where she had once seen her disappear (to smoke or meet a member of male entertainment she had assumed at the time) she would play witness to some pretty hardcore cross-country running.

"Very good. Now your top, please."

The hesitation apparent in the blonde is short-lived this time, and she seems to relax as she plucks at the hem of her top and lifts it over her head. There is no finesse to the act- no burlesque peak-a-boo play- no sensual slowness. She removes the item just as the brunette is sure she does when alone.

This half-assed level of commitment seems suddenly less important when the Mayor takes in what the Sheriff wears beneath.

"Well... Now that _is_ a surprise..."

Dark eyes roam over the intricate detail of a perfect concoction of satin and lace. The crimson bra the younger woman wears is most _certainly_ anything but cheap, and Regina silently gives the other woman a point in their current power play as she is forced to amend the rules to her little game accordingly.

"Face me."

This time, Emma moves as soon as she is asked, and the ill-disguised lilt at the corner of her mouth suggests she knows _exactly_ what's going on. Her long hair tumbles lightly over the deep red cups- half satin, half just delicate lace- but she takes care not to let it obscure the view too much. The complete upper halves of the bra's cups are comprised of a simple net of lace that clings to rounded flesh pleasingly. The brunette wets her lips subconsciously as she notes that the cups themselves are held together across the front by mere satin strings; criss-crossed like a scarlet target.

"Very nice, Miss Swan... Let's see if you can continue to impress me or if this is merely a fluke... The jeans, take them off."

Green eyes remain locked with the Mayor's as the blonde slips open her belt easily and moves her hips to work down tight blue denim. When she gets the jeans midway down her thighs, she raises a brow in question, before moving her weight onto one leg and toeing off her boot with her foot. It is an undignified act- strangely boyish- and something the brunette has previously berated Henry for doing. However, this method of removing her footwear is clearly well-practiced, as Emma has both boots slung across the floor in no time before proceeding to kick her jeans the rest of the way down.

" _Very_ graceful."

The Mayor scolds, and the Sheriff shrugs in a way that suggests the older woman would be foolish to expect anything different from her. Regina has to admit it is a sentiment she shares. She finds her thought-process greatly hindered however, as she drinks in French cut panties that contrast shockingly with pale skin.

 _So the woman_ does _, in fact, own some matching underwear._

The brunette drops her attention momentarily to Emma's feet, where she spies thick woollen socks that end a little below the knee and hang loosely in a weirdly teenage fashion.

_Well... stockings would have been preferable, but this will do almost as well._

The Mayor has to smirk inwardly as she takes in the full picture presented by the blonde. She looks divine clad in the expensive lingerie she wears, and despite her current coy expression, if Emma's timidity upon undressing the previous day is anything to go by, Regina suspects the younger woman is entirely unaware of image she creates. It would be impossible to guess that this is what the blonde is hiding beneath her shitty collection of jackets and shirts, and there is something rather alluring in that thought. Something secretive. Possessive.

_Mine._

Offering Emma a business-like smile of approval, the Mayor turns for one of the cells that line the adjacent room with a beckoning curl of a perfectly manicured finger.

"If you would like to follow me, dear."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, this chapter contains a sex scene that borders on violent. It is the last scene of this nature for a while now :)

_  
_The Mayor comes to a halt at the entrance of the lefthand steel-barred cell and turns expectantly; signalling that she wishes Emma to enter first. The blonde complies after a moment's hesitation, despite the fact that allowing anyone to order her around so easily goes against every fibre of her being. She _hates_ adhering to the brunette's whims, but she is also curious. And a little wet. She casts her heavy boots a longing glance as she passes them; the chill of the flagstone floor biting at her feet through thick wool.

Regina feels a small flush of victory as the Sheriff pads her way dutifully into the small cell, admiring the younger woman's ass as she walks towards the cot in the corner. She advances on her immediately and grabs her by the waist; spinning the blonde around in front of the small bed so that she faces her.

She pushes Emma easily onto the threadbare covers and smiles as she looks down on her from her superior height.

The blonde falls onto the bed awkwardly- across its width rather than its length- and the cold brick behind props her up slightly at the shoulders, her legs trailing off the bed, slightly apart. She looks up at the brunette with a bemused expression, and the latter simply waits silently for the Sheriff to bore of her stoic glaring and scoot herself around so that she lies properly on the small cot. Studying the blonde, Regina feels at the same time godlike, and as though she is standing over a body at a wake- what with the way the younger woman lies rigidly still- and she promptly climbs onto the bed so that she straddles the Sheriff across her stomach; right kneecap digging uncomfortably into the brickwork due to the narrow mattress.

Pale hands immediately move up to rid her of her jacket, and the Mayor knocks them aside irritably. The frustrated pout this garners her causes her to smile down snidely, and she runs one of her own hands gently over delicate crimson fabric.

The heat emanating against her palm is exquisite.

"You know, I can't help but notice you're wearing considerably more clothes than I am.. Hardly fair..."

Emma sighs.

"And what makes you assume for a _second_ that I'm interested in this being _fair_?"

Despite her words, the brunette can't help but view her current position with vague irritation; the tight fabric of her dress pants allowing the thrumming heat of the younger woman below her to fuel her arousal, but offering no friction or relief whatsoever. As if blaming the blonde for her predicament, she drags her nails roughly over the soft lace of the Sheriff's bra; enjoying the way the fabric catches and pulls against her fingers, and the sharp intake of breath that causes lean muscle to twitch against her core.

_This could work..._

She continues her rough ministrations over delicate fabric; snagging a few of the intricate whorls and delighting in the feel of the blonde's nipples stiffening tellingly beneath her fingers. She tweaks one cruelly through the maddening material and is rewarded with a small hiss. She grins down into darkened eyes, and takes in the lustful parting of the younger woman's lips. She hasn't _planned_ on kissing Emma- regarding the intimacy of the act to be useless in her current ploy for revenge- but she can't take her eyes off the pale rosy pout she knows matches the flushed flesh of the blonde's inner core delightfully.

Emma permits her affection willingly, despite the sharp ache instigated in her bottom lip as the Mayor's mouth crashes against her own violently. The taste of the brunette's lipstick is foreign and medicinal, but not unpleasantly so. Regardless, she plans on there nothing but a ghosted memory of bold red on full lips by the time they're done here; already imagining what that _particular_ shade will look like when marking several areas of her own pale skin.

Regina leans further forward, bracing her weight on her elbows and hands so that she can swing her legs to rest between Emma's own, effectively lying flush on top of her. She dominates the Sheriff momentarily with just the sheer, vital weight of her body; crushing her chest against the blonde's and pressing down with her stomach and hips.

Despite both women being remarkably slender, the position is actually strangely comfortable and the darker woman breathes in the peculiarly arousing scent of of bourbon, while the younger breathes the delicate notes of Chanel No. 5. With a sigh, Regina moves herself down the blonde's body until she nestles between well-toned legs that she spreads wide with her hands. The leg adjascent to the wall has little room to move, so the Mayor forces it up instead; secretly testing the Sheriff's flexibility. When she gets it stretched at a right-angle to narrow hips while remaining perfectly straight and offering no resistance, she hums appreciatively and gives it a firm push against the wall to let the blonde know to keep it there.

Emma complies happily enough; deciding that if this is her punishment for her little stunt the previous day, she will take it gladly.

Regina begins to run her fingers gently over the soft flesh of the Sheriff's thighs, occasionally brushing over the satin swatch of her underwear. She takes care to be delicate, pretending she is simply enjoying the sensation, which- she supposes- she is. Taking her time, and watching the steady rise and fall of the blonde's chest, she runs one finger lightly over the crotch of the younger woman's lingerie, finding her centre and stroking its length slowly. Emma's eyes flutter closed and she adopts an uncharacteristically serene expression.

The Mayor continues running her finger over the slowly dampening fabric; keeping her eyes trained on the Sheriff's face. With her other hand, she reaches stealthily into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out the blonde's gun. She had been hoping to use the cold shock of the metal to surprise the younger woman, but its proximity to her body heat has left the gun strangely warm.

She'll just have to take a more _direct_ approach.

" _Jesus_! What the _fuck_!"

Green eyes shoot open as the Sheriff scrambles quickly away up the bed; mouth open in shock. Regina smirks, showing her the gun which she had moments ago pressed firmly to the blonde's satin covered sex.

"What in the actual _fuck_ , Regina?!"

And, there is no guarded discipline to the younger woman's tone now as she cries out hoarsely; eyes wide and cheeks pink. The Mayor studies her curiously, delighting in the way her rapid breathing causes globed flesh encased in harlot's red to heave.

"You really should be more careful where you leave your belongings, Miss Swan..."

"Fuck you!"

" _Really_ , dear, you-"

She lets out a hiss of surprise as Emma's hand connects sharply with her cheek.

And then she doesn't play anymore.

Emma yelps as her guilty hand is gripped firmly at the wrist by ruthless fingers, while the brunette's other hand grabs at her hips and thighs with bruising force to wrestle her down the bed. Once pinned beneath the darker woman, sharp teeth bite cruelly at the bare flesh of her stomach, and manicured nails leave red trails over her ass and the accessible flesh of her legs.

"Re-Regina...!"

She cries out as her underwear is yanked unceremoniously to the side and slim fingers enter her roughly. She is grateful now for the Mayor's earlier teasing, as there is no foreplay to the violent intrusion, and, while slightly uncomfortable, she knows there could well have been pain.

Regina thrusts her fingers forcefully, eyes impossibly dark as she glares down at the younger woman beneath her. Her movements are savage and aggressive, and she can feel the silken muscles of the blonde's core begin to clamp around her fingers, despite the unease written on the Sheriff's face.

"Bad move, Miss Swan..."

The blonde lets out a choked cry as she climaxes violently; her body's reaction to the forceful fucking sickeningly rapid and a little painful. Her legs shake and go limp while her mind thrums blackly, and for a second she's afraid she's about to pass out.

Slender hands pull at her sternly; manipulating her body and pushing and shoving at long limbs until her stomach is pressed down into the scratchy sheets. A tug at her hips pulls her clumsily onto her knees, while a firm hand in her hair keeps her head down on the pillow. She struggles to comprehend exactly what's going on; her muscles still weak and limbs uncoordinated.

A sharp smack to her ass has her quickly brought back to the hear and now, and she lets out a hiss of irritation.

Regina rips the blonde's ruined underwear swiftly down her legs and resumes her work with her fingers without warning. The noise this rewards her is so close to a scream that it almost brings her over the edge, and she increases the speed of her fingers until she's rewarded with the real thing. Emma struggles restlessly to try and crawl away; hands gripping fistfuls of old fabric uselessly, and letting out distressed little yelps.

"Regina... Stop! I can't..."

The brunette chuckles wryly, her grip firm at the Sheriff's waist to keep her from moving too far. The blonde is becoming harder and harder to hold as she bucks and struggles fitfully; her flesh now slick with a light sheen of perspiration. Grabbing the younger woman's hips with strong hands, the Mayor flips her with difficulty so that she lies once more on her back, and moves her mouth to where her fingers have been excelling themselves. She grips the blonde's hipbones with bruising force to keep her from breaking the contact between her tongue and the younger woman's sex.

"Stop! _Fuck_! Stop it!"

Emma thrashes uselessly, trying to gain purchase of the brunette's hair, shoulders, hands, _anything_ , so that she can throw her off. The intensity of the pleasure to her sex- already sensitive from the rough orgasm just moments ago- is bordering on painful, and she's having trouble breathing. One of her kicking feet makes sharp contact with the Mayor's side and the latter stops her work just long enough to growl angrily

"Ah! You _stupid_ girl!"

She removes one hand from its death grip on Emma's hips and uses it to blindly catch the blonde's thrashing leg awkwardly at the knee. She tightens her grip- digging in her nails with cruel reprimand- and focuses all of her attention on the bundle of nerves beneath her tongue. The leg in her hand- and the other which lies trapped between herself and the wall- begins to shake tellingly, and she lets go of the younger woman's knee in order to place her palm flat on the blonde's stomach above her.

Strong legs wrap themselves around her shoulders in reflex, but Regina notes they take care not to kick or knock her unnecessarily. She removes her mouth from the Sheriff's spent folds and rests her jaw gently on the bare skin at her pubis; looking up along taut planes of pale flesh to where green eyes are squeezed forcefully shut.

Slowly, Emma lowers her legs from the brunette's shoulders, although the movement is entirely graceless. Her limbs feel like jelly, and she has to work much too hard to simply get them to respond at all.

"Fuck..."

"So you keep saying."

Regina smirks and she pats the blonde's stomach almost companionably before removing herself from the bed. She smooths out the creases in her shirt and dress pants, before bending down to pick up discarded red lace and letting it drop next to the Sheriff.

"Well, dear, this was fun, and I do believe you've almost learnt your lesson..."

Emma doesn't open her eyes- her breathing still harsh and uneven- and the Mayor wonders if she's even aware of where she is. Smiling, she supposes this works well in her favor. Stalking over to the barred door, she lets herself out before swinging it shut. Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out the second item she has bought along for this little excursion. She finds the skeleton key for the cell and slips it quickly into the lock. The scrape of metal on metal seems to finally get through to the blonde and Emma opens her eyes hastily to witness the brunette turn the key and step away.

"Hey, wh-what?..."

"As I said, I am sure you will learn your lesson."

"Hey, no, wait, _Regina_!"

Emma scrambles up from the bed and staggers slightly as she rushes to the cell's door. The Mayor makes a quick bet with herself that the blonde will proceed to rattle uselessly at the bars and is proved right.

_Idiotic woman._

"Well, this has been fun... I'm sure I'll be seeing you, Sheriff."

" _What_?! What the _hell_ , Regina! How am I supposed to get _out_ of here!?"

" _That_ , my dear, is really not my problem."

She smiles, tuning out the onslaught of yelling and swearing that follows, and simply fluttering her fingers in farewell as she turns to leave. Before she can open the door, she is struck by a peculiar afterthought and hesitates with her hand on the knob. Sighing- and silently questioning herself as to when she turned soft- she turns back and walks towards the cells. Emma shuts up instantly, and the Mayor has to admit, the girl seems to be learning quickly.

But it's no good _now_.

She enters the cell adjacent to Emma's- ignoring the bright-eyed confusion that follows her every movement- and strips the empty bed of its blanket; sliding the item briskly beneath the bars into the blonde's cell before turning to take her leave without a second glance.


	13. Chapter 13

The blonde frowns as her somewhat fitful dreaming is interrupted by the soft slamming of a door. She tries to place the sound in her mind; not recognizing the metallic quality of the noise for the usual soft thumps heard coming from downstairs at Mary Margaret's. Opening a sleep-blurred eye, she takes in her surroundings with drowsy bewilderment until the previous evening comes back to her in a rapid blur of emotion.

 _Well, it's about fucking_ time _..._

But the light skip of the oncoming footsteps make them impossible to be those belonging to the Mayor; a stiletto beat so steady the darker woman surely has an internal metronome nothing like these scurrying little taps. She racks her brain as to who else might possibly have any business coming to the Station to pay her a visit and comes to one, horrifically obvious answer.

"Henry..."

Her mouth opens in shock as she feels her stomach flip nauseatingly. With the steps rapidly approaching, she does the only thing she can think of; she hides. Pulling the threadbare blankets up over her head, she holds her breath- as if this is the key to eliminating one's physical presence- and waits.

"Hey, Emma, I... Emma?"

She pulls the corner of the blanket slowly away from her eyes and peeks out as a familiar face regards her quizzically through the bars.

"Oh... Hey, Ruby..."

"Umm..."

The young brunette offers her a curious smile before turning around and taking in the rest of her surroundings. She deduces that they are alone- odd, as the cell door is clearly locked- and halts her observations when her eyes drop to the damning evidence that is one of the Sheriff's muddy boots lying forlorn beside the desk. She regards this item quizzically, before spotting a small swatch of blue hidden behind the bulky wooden table that can belong to nothing else but the cuff of the blonde's customary skin-tight jeans. She raises an eyebrow and turns her attention back to the blushing Sheriff with a smirk.

"Fun night?"

"Debatable."

Emma's cheeks glow positively scarlet as she attempts to sit up and simultaneously wrap the blanket around her scantily clad frame. Her heart is still beating much too fast after its scare of being found in her current state by her son, but she can feel it gradually beginning to regain at least some sort of regular rhythm. She drops her eyes from the waitress's, feeling disgustingly uncomfortable. Still, she doesn't know the younger woman particularly well, but she is on some level aware that the brunette is possibly favorable company if such a thing exists in this situation.

"So... Who is he?"

White teeth flash at her in a wolfish grin and the blonde is slightly taken aback by Ruby's brazenness. She glares up at the waitress, causing the young brunette to smile apologetically and lower her eyes sheepishly. Emma sighs and gets up to walk over to the cell door; wincing slightly at the ache in her thighs while pulling the scratchy throw around her like a robe.

"Can we not...My keys are on the desk there, do you think you could..."

Ruby glances over to where the Sheriff points and nods amiably, trotting over to the messy desk and snatching up the silver set of keys lying amongst the piles of paperwork. She bounces back and selects the smallest one; wrestling it into the lock and letting the door swing open. Emma hurries ungracefully past her and snatches her discarded clothes from the floor; bundling them into her arms and making her way quickly for the door.

Ten hours is a hell of a long time with no bathroom break.

* * *

The Sheriff wrinkles her nose as she studies herself in the murky bathroom mirror. Her hair falls about her face in a cornsilk nightmare while her eyes peer back at her pinkly from darkened sockets. She can make out a livid bite-mark on the pale skin of her throat, and upon letting the blanket she hides beneath fall to the floor, she discovers several more.

"Bitch."

She inspects the damage caused by the Mayor, and comes across a series of small bruises dappling her right thigh. She spreads her fingers and mimics their shape, finding her hand to fit the brunette's grip-mark perfectly. Sighing, she pulls on her slightly chill-dampened jeans and buttons them up fiercely. She pulls on her ratty tank top and shucks on her jacket before splashing a generous helping of icy water onto her face and rinsing a scooped handful of it around her mouth. Regarding the finished product, she sighs and pads defeatedly back to her office.

* * *

Ruby perches in the visitor's chair, eyes flickering about the room with burning curiosity. She looks up shyly as the Sheriff re-enters, and watches with growing interest as the blonde lowers herself somewhat gingerly into the seat opposite her. Green eyes regard her with what is a pitiful attempt at nonchalance and she offers Emma her warmest smile in return.

She is no stranger to the awkwardness of morning afters.

_Never had the Sheriff pegged for jail kink, though... Although I guess if that news article Sydney wrote was true and she picked up a liking for it then maybe I could believe it... Either way... Who knew?.. The little minx..._

"So, umm... How can I help you, Ruby?"

The waitress quickly pulls herself from her pensive reverie and grins guiltily as Emma pulls her long hair around to cover the purple graze at her neck where she hadn't previously realised she'd been staring.

"Mary Margaret called and asked me to come check on you. She said she looked in on you just before she left as she didn't hear you come in last night, and got worried when you weren't there. She had to get to class, or she'd have come herself. Your phone's off so she called to ask if I'd mind popping round to see if you were ok... Three times."

Emma groans inwardly and pulls her cell from the pocket of her jeans. She presses several of the buttons defiantly, but the battery is well and truly dead. She sighs, and supposes she is peculiarly grateful that the schoolteacher hadn't been the one to find her in her sorry state; something about the thought of Mary Margaret knowing about her less than innocent escapade making her insides crawl.

"Damn. Well I suppose it's a good thing for me you let her pester you into checking anyway!"

Ruby grins companionably; glad to hear the Sheriff make a touching reference to the situation so that she knows where they stand.

"Oh, it's no problem, it's always nice to get an excuse to get out of the Diner for a little while. I told her you'd probably just fallen asleep at your desk, what with all the work the storm must have created."

She sweeps a hand towards the papers that litter the desk between them to emphasize her point. Emma smiles back shyly before fanning her fingers out on the desk, appearing suddenly engrossed in them as she avoids eye contact.

"Maybe, uh, you could _still_ tell her that?"

The blonde looks up, startled, as a red-nailed hand folds warmly over her own; still not quite accustomed to the waitress's touchy-feely tendencies. The brunette offers her a winning flash of bright white teeth and uses her free hand to mime zipping her painted lips shut.

"Your secret's safe with me, Sheriff!"

Emma finally breaks into a more genuine smile and the younger woman returns it with another of her own, giving her a nod in farewell and rising to leave. When she reaches the door she halts suddenly and presses a palm to her forehead.

"Oh damn! I was going to bring you coffee and I completely forgot!"

"I think I _may_ owe you enough gratitude to overlook it, Ruby, even _with_ the onset of caffeine withdrawal."

She widens her eyes seriously at the last part and Ruby giggles pleasantly and promises to stop by in the afternoon with lunch and an extra large cup of mocha.

"Later, Emma"

"See you... Oh, and Ruby... Thanks for...You know..."

She casts her gaze pointedly over towards the recently vacated cell and the brunette shrugs her shoulders; pulling her impossibly tight midi-top even higher.

"It's no big deal... Now try not to fall asleep at your desk again!"

She throws the blonde a wink and offers a small wave of her fingers as she disappears through the door. Emma briefly ponders just how _anybody_ can be so overtly chirpy and harmlessly flirty at what must surely still be relatively early on in the morning and decides she will simply accept the fact. Gratefully.

She also makes a mental note to leave a handsomely generous tip the next time she stops by Granny's for hot chocolate.

* * *

Emma balls up the grease-blotted wrapper from her finished toasted cheese- delivered by Ruby a short while ago, as promised- and throws it into the wastepaper basket in the corner with expert precision. She gives a small tip of an imaginary hat to no one in particular in response to this feat of exquisite athleticism, before returning to the property-damage report in front of her.

She sighs theatrically when the phone rings, hoping it will be Mary Margaret simply calling to chat- and possibly to sneakily check that she's alive and breathing for herself- but knowing it is more likely to be Miss Ginger chasing her up on what she plans to do about the damage to her kitchen window. Again.

"Sheriff's station, Swan speaking?"

She waits impatiently as the line remains silent, before a telling click lets her know the call has been disconnected.

"Well, fuck you too then!"

* * *

The Mayor places the phone delicately back in its cradle and returns to the floury dough she has been kneading ruthlessly with what can now, finally, be called her full attention.

She refuses to believe that her first two attempts at baking this morning ending in disaster- _despite the recipes being almost second nature-_ while the third now finally seems to be taking shape is anything but pure coincidence.

Her dark eyes fall irritably down to her coat and bag which sit patiently on the table as if in preparation to go somewhere. As if she was perhaps thinking of making her way down to the Sheriff's station to make sure the young blonde had found her way out of the jail cell.

True, she is mildly curious how Emma has managed to pull this off.

True, she supposes she had been mulling over who would save the Savior.

She had been curious, yes. But concerned?

No, not concerned. Surely not.


	14. Chapter 14

"Where have you been?"

The Mayor glares down at her son as he wanders merrily through the front door. He rolls his eyes at her in a way that is grotesquely familiar to the way glittering green eyes have rolled at her lit with flickering fire, and she places her hands on her hips irritably. The dinner she has prepared has only been sitting forlorn for a couple of minutes, but her son's tardiness is still entirely unacceptable, and not at all like him.

"Take your shoes off, you're tracking mud. What have you been _doing_ anyway, you're _filthy_!"

"Emma rigged a tyre swing up in the woods because the castle got busted in the storm, it was sick!"

_Busted? Sick?... Really?_

Despite her bemusement at the questionable vocabulary being bestowed upon her son, she is actually a little surprised that he has spent the day in the company of the Sheriff. She herself has only caught glimpses of the younger woman this past week, finding the days to drag on so much longer without the irksome blonde barging in every ten minutes to rile her up.

In fact, if she were to spare the situation some thought, she would say the Sheriff has been avoiding her.

And, she _has_ been driving herself a little mad admittedly, waiting warily for Emma to serve up whatever twisted form of comeback her queer mind conjures, but as the days have passed uneventfully by, she wonders if perhaps Emma's ignoring her is not a punishment in itself.

She hates to admit it, but if this _is_ the case, it is having the presumably desired effect of pissing her off.

"Doesn't the Sheriff have better things to do then frolic about in the woods all day?"

"Uh, it's _Saturday._ "

Henry quips in his best ' _um, duh_!' voice, causing her to purse her lips in disapproval.

"And anyway, Emma got her paperwork all done _way_ early because Ruby came over to help her with her filing yesterday."

"Ruby?"

_Well, that's new..._

"Yeah, she's been helping her most of the week."

"Is that so?"

Regina frowns a little as she goes about plating up the lasagna that sits steaming on the dining room table. She hadn't been aware that the blonde and the waitress were anything more than polite acquaintances; not imagining the two to have a great deal in common. She would have thought Ruby's chirpy, flirtatious extroversion would be something the Sheriff might find grating rather than endearing.

Not that she has any interest in the company Emma chooses to keep.

* * *

"Yesterday I was _dirty_ , wanted to be _pretty_ , tomorrow I know... I'm still dirt."

Emma sings along absently-mindedly to the music blaring loudly from the battered CD player on her nightstand. It's an old model, capable of running off both electricity and battery power, but the cable has long since become useless and ensnared. She has found that since moving into Mary Margaret's, the batteries she feeds the player seem to have a mysteriously short shelf-life; often coming back home to find them dead, or- twice now- simply missing.

_Apparently Mary Margaret is not a fan of Marilyn Manson... Who'd have thought?_

She sits slouched against the cold iron headboard of her bed, a bowl of microwave popcorn resting in her lap, and breaks up her half-assed singing with oddly timed pauses to catch the kernels she tosses up into the air in her mouth.

She still wears her jeans from earlier and the knees are soiled with mud and grime. She suspects Regina will have given Henry a hard time about the similar state of his clothes and feels a small pang of guilt. She doubts the brunette herself has ever sustained so much as a _grass-stain_ in her entire miserable life.

_Ah fuck... Back to Regina again._

She sighs irritably, scolding her mind for wandering so carelessly back to forbidden territory. In response, her memory flashes treacherously with the image of the Mayor lying spread out, gloriously, on her own goddamned desk like a prize.

"Shit."

This onslaught of erotic images is nothing new; this past week has left her permanently exhausted as she has struggled uselessly to catalogue and tame her emotions in regards to the darker woman. She is lost. They have started this sordidly twisted game and, technically, it is her turn to play a hand.

She just can't decide whether she wishes to _take_ it.

At first, after being freed from her humiliating imprisonment by Ruby- an event which has lead to a surprising camaraderie with the younger woman for which she is genuinely grateful- she had been furious; deciding that if she were to see the Mayor again in _hell_ it would be too soon. She had spent that first evening tossing and turning in her narrow, creaky bed; furiously cursing the impossible brunette.

Since then, she has calmed down, and while still angry at being treated like a mere plaything, she finds herself more and more frequently thinking longingly of flawless skin and dark, glittering eyes.

It is her turn to play a hand, but she has come to one disillusioning realization.

She can not _win_ this.

There is a line; invisible, but it's there. The Mayor's little stunt at the Station had toed it dangerously, but Emma has since come to the conclusion that the brunette stopped just short of crossing it. And, of course, she herself is to blame for that, because she had _allowed_ herself to be used in such a way. True, she had struggled, and even begged of the darker woman not to continue with her intense ministrations, but she knows that if she had really, truly _needed_ Regina to stop- if she had poured the effort being spent on useless yelping and bucking into forming a concise sentence that served to let the brunette know she didn't wish to continue; that the Mayor was actually _hurting_ her in any way- the game would have come to a halt. She allowed herself to be treated in such a way, and so the Mayor had continued to play her winning hand.

_But if those roles were to be reversed..._

She knows that she too had been skating on wafer thin ice with her use of the letter opener, but she _had_ taken care to keep to the rules. The brunette had been clear that she did not wish to be visibly marked or come to any harm, and she had been meticulous to follow that request, however loosely.

She doesn't see how she can _beat_ that experience.

Unlike herself, Regina will not permit pleasure to cross over to pain.

Unlike herself, Regina will opt out before things threaten to soil her reputation.

To rid her of her dignity.

She wants to believe that she is simply kinkier than the brunette- more daring- but she knows deep down the way the decks are currently stacked; the playing field is uneven. The Mayor may degrade her however she sees fit, because she has messed up somewhere along the way and presented herself as nothing more than a piece of cheap entertainment. She can't _beat_ Regina, because the brunette refuses her not just dominance, but _respect_.

And isn't that what she's _really_ pissed off about?

It's her turn to play, but at some point during this horrendously shitty week, she has come to the conclusion that she doesn't _want_ to further her apparently futile attempt to demean the Mayor.

She has been trying to think of a way to shock the other woman the way she believes the brunette _deserves_ to be shocked, and has come up empty. All thoughts being too ludicrous, too dangerous, too painful.

Too risky of being turned down.

Turned away.

No. She wishes to shock the older woman, but she will have to do so by altering the rules of their heated little battle of oneupmanship. Rather than a half-assed attempt to degrade the Mayor while delicately toeing that damned invisible line, she decides- after thoughtful consideration- that she will instead endeavor to even the playing field. To force the Mayor to admit that she is not merely some plaything to be messed with when bored and then left to lick mournfully at the deep wounds sustained to her ego.

 _Not that the playing field was ever even to_ begin _with._

The Sheriff's lips- slightly shiny from the buttery popcorn- form a slow smile as she ponders this thought. No. So far as Regina is concerned, there was never any real competition. She finds the blonde cheap, tacky, disposable as Sheriff, and _useless_ as a human being. Eyes flickering over to the mirror that hangs a little crookedly- _brilliant, talk about irony when trying to disprove a point_ \- on the adjacent wall, Emma studies her reflection.

Messed hair. Dirty clothes. Junk food. Singing too loud. A rogue popcorn kernel balancing precariously on a crease of her shirt.

If she can't beat the Mayor with kink-fueled antics, there is, perhaps, _another_ way. Admittedly, the thought of stringing the delicious brunette up and slicing her own name into the delicate flesh of the older woman's perfectly globed ass cheek is highly arousing... But proving the Mayor _wrong_... Well, that seems as though it would be the ultimate prize.

* * *

"...Henry... You there kid?"

Henry rolls over onto his stomach to fetch the walkie from the opposite end of the bed, careful not to crush the comic in his hand.

"Emma?"

There is a brief pause while on the other end of the crackly line the blonde winces guiltily when faced with her son's unabashed delight at having her call him, before she pulls herself together and promises herself she will simply buy him an extra large ice-cream the next time they hang out.

"Hey, kid... I need some, um, information..."

"What is it?"

Henry's eyes light up at the fact that the Sheriff is relying on him for whatever information she requires, and he quickly rephrases his question to let her know that he is completely efficient.

"What can I help you with, Emma?"

She smirks fondly at the strangely pompous quality of the kid's voice and plays along.

"I need to know what your mom has planned for tomorrow night."

"Um... Nothing, I don't think... Why?"

"It's uh-"

She is about to tell him that her question is relevent to Operation Cobra, but finds that she can't bring herself to lie to him like that, so she simply clears her throat and appeals for his silence.

"It's just something I needed to know for this thing I have planned... Sheriff stuff..."

"Oh... Ok?"

"Henry, I need you to make sure she stays home tomorrow night, and that the spare keys are under the mat... I need to talk to her about something, but she can't know I was asking, ok? Can you do that? Can you keep it a secret?"

"Of course! You can count on me!"

"I know, kid, I always can..."

Henry grins and on the other end of the line the Sheriff smiles fondly, despite feeling more than a little guilty for getting the kid caught up in her game.

"Oh crap, I better go, Emma. I can hear my mom coming up the stairs."

"Ok, night... And, Henry... Umm... Sleep well, yeah?"

She cringes, feeling hellishly awkward and deciding she posseses not one ounce of motherliness in her entire being. Henry's smile widens however, and he beams at the black walkie in his small hand.

"You too, Emma, sleep well!"

She grins sheepishly and depresses the communication button, placing the walkie carefully next to her pillow. She replays her son's words over again in her head and smiles when she imagines that tonight, finally, she will indeed sleep well.

 _Very_ well.


	15. Chapter 15

Emma sits on the soft threadbare throw that covers her bed, the worn fabric brushing the bare skin of her thighs and ass comfortably. She wears nothing but a simple black thong, and sits with her head cocked at a peculiar angle; trying to avoid mixing up the hair she has already tamed into sleek, golden waves from the tangles still to be attacked with her curling iron.

"Ah! Shit!"

She sucks a burnt finger into her mouth regretfully, guessing there may be some truth to that whole 'beauty is pain' proverb. She soldiers on, teasing her mass of hair with a little more caution until she is left with silken curls that tumble gracefully over her shoulders.

"Not too bad, Swan."

She pulls a face at herself in the mirror, feeling a little like character in a Pre-Raphaelite artwork as her blonde tresses cover her breasts demurely. She hunts around in the wooden chest that sits at the foot of her bed; shoving about the useless, accumulated crap that needs to be sorted- _at some point_ \- until she finds what she's looking for. Twisting the top off of a small black jar, she lifts it to her nose and inhales appreciatively. The moisturizer inside smells not just good, but expensive, and while she remembers being given it by a perp a few months before coming to Storybrooke, she can't recall his face.

_Not that it matters._

What _matters_ is that the buttery cream smells of cinnamon, vanilla and a hint of black pepper, and she rubs it lightly into the pale skin of her legs, relishing their freshly waxed feel. She moves up to cover her arms and breasts, before walking over to a black bag in the doorway with mixed feelings of apprehension and excitement.

The bag comes from a store in Portland, and she has never been more inclined to wish Henry correct on his theory that the inhabitants of Storybrooke are doomed never to leave.

It gives her an edge.

She had driven out of town this afternoon, and after an hour of passing nothing but woodland and then industrial parks, she had finally found herself nearing the city. It had been oddly therapeutic to find herself in an environment other than Storybrooke- even if just for the afternoon- and she had sat for a short while in Starbucks, nursing a large toffee nut latte, before finding her way to the shopping district. Most of the names emblazoned on awnings and windows had been well known, but the blonde had sternly forbidden herself to be drawn to the comfort of familiarity. Instead, she had carried on searching until coming across a small, darkened boutique tucked between a pompous little tea house and a jewellery store.

_Regina would have loved it._

It's not an experience she would wish to repeat; the impossibly thin shopping assistant eyeing her up and down so brazenly she had felt the color flush to her cheeks. The price tags pinned to clothes hung primly on artistically curved hangers had seemed ridiculously extortionate, but again, she had scolded herself for falling into old habits. Deciding that black would be the safest option, she had searched her way through the luxurious array of dresses and suits in hopes of finding the least unappealing option.

Pulling the delicate material carefully from the bag now, she is loathe to admit that with a great price comes exceptional quality. She pulls the dark fabric over her head- careful not to ruffle her curls- and studies herself in the mirror shrewdly. The black silk clings to her body unforgivingly, falling softly a few inches above her knee. The straps of the dress- if that's what you'd call them- are an elaborate concoction of twists and curves that create delicate, shapely lines which play over her collarbones and shoulders. She is not usually a 'fussy' girl, but she has to admit the design of the garment is stunning.

_And it doesn't look half bad on me, either._

A dull thud as someone knocks on the front door has her ripping her attention away from her foreign reflection and padding lightly downstairs on bare feet.

"Who is it?"

Her heart hammers a little faster than she'd like; dreading running into her housemate having forgotten her keys, as she doesn't think she could handle the resultant wave of affection and exclamations over her current state of dress.

" _Me_! Now let me in, or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll-"

"-Hey, Ruby."

" _Emma_!"

The young waitress takes in the blonde's attire with a comically dropped jaw. Emma blushes, but gives an awkward little twirl to show off her outfit. The brunette quickly holds her in place as the Sheriff shows off the back; pulling up the narrow zipper that had been gaping open in a curious V all the way down to the divots just above her buttocks.

" _Ah_ , hey! Not so _tight_!"

The blonde wiggles a little to get accustomed to the restrictive pull of the material, causing the waitress to giggle.

"That's _not_ tight, Emma. You wanna see tight, you should have borrowed something out of _my_ wardrobe!"

Ruby grins at her own expense as her eyes roam appreciatively over the Sheriff's uncharacteristically flattering attire.

"Which I _was_ going to suggest that you do anyway, but... _Wow_! I mean... Holy _shit_!... You're _hot_!"

Emma blushes furiously, giving an awkward little shrug and beckoning the waitress up to her bedroom, closing the door quickly behind them.

* * *

"So you're _really_ still not gonna tell me who you're going out to see?"

"Nope."

"Tease."

"Maybe."

"Why not?... I won't _tell_ anyone!"

"Uhuh... Still no."

"Emm- _aaa..._ "

"Yes?"

"Please!"

"Nope."

Ruby pouts as she holds the blonde's chin with two fingers; turning her head to the side so that she has better access to an enviably high cheekbone. She blows softly on the brush she has loaded with blusher- having been instructed to keep everything minimal- and strokes at the dip above the blonde's jaw to exaggerate natural hollows with a hint of cherry blossom.

"Nevermind, I'll just ask you tomorrow."

"And what makes you think I'm going to tell you _tomorrow_?"

"You'll be in too good a mood not to!"

"Oh?"

"You go out looking like this, and you are gonna get _laid_. Hence, you being all warm and fuzzy with after glow and telling me all the juicy details!"

The brunette nods gravely, widening her eyes as though she is speaking of a predicament the blonde can in no way get out of. Emma snorts amiably, closing her eyes as dusky shadow is applied to her lids while waving her hand around blindly until she finds the waitress's knee; giving it a hard flick.

"I don't _do_ warm and fuzzy."

"Mmhmm, I didn't think you did _dresses_ either, but look who's suddenly come over all fancy! Seriously, you look like you should be hanging out with the Mayor!... Oh my _god_!"

" _What_?"

Emma opens her eyes abruptly, her stomach clenching as her heart jumps into her throat.

_Please no please no please no please no..._

"Your date!"

"...What about it?"

"It's not... It's not _Gold_ , is it?"

"What?! _No_!"

The Sheriff glares at the young brunette incredulously and Ruby grins apologetically and goes back to lining the blonde's eyes with expertly smudged kohl along her lashes.

"Sorry... Just because of the dress..."

" _Great_ , now I want to change."

"You will _not_! Forget I said anything! You look amazing... Ridiculously _classy_ , but amazing... I'd _definitely_ fuck you!"

" _Ruby_!"

"I'm just saying!"

"...Thanks... I think?"

"Welcome... All done."

Ruby screws her mascara back up and places it in the small, pink makeup bag she'd bought over with her. Emma blinks her eyes a few times before standing up to study herself in the mirror. It is an incredibly odd sensation. She recognizes the shapes and features of her face and body; the light freckles just visible at her nose, the small scar above her eye, the darker freckles on her shoulders, green eyes flecked grey, and the soft peaks and planes of her body...But it is as if stranger has adopted these traits. Her hair shines prettily- begging to be touched- and her features are exaggerated in a way that is so openly sexual it's a little unnerving; Ruby's makeup smoking prettily around her eyes- darkening them- and the dress hinting salaciously at her curves beneath.

"Damn!"

"I'll say!"

She turns to face the brunette with a small grin that the waitress reciprocates fondly. Ruby fusses momentarily over a few stray strands of hair; wetting her finger and setting them about the Sheriff's face so that they sit just right. With this accomplished, she takes a step back and admires the finished product before reaching back into her bag and pulling out a pair of very simple but very _high_ black heels.

"Are you _sure_ you're gonna be okay in these?"

Emma gives her a coy wink and slips the shoes on easily; thanking any deities interested on behalf of her credit card that the waitress is the same size in shoe as she is.

"I'm fine."

She assures, and she supposes the fact that she has spent the past few years dolling herself up as part of the job is another point in her favor. While her attire for such operations had been vastly different to the beautiful dress she wears now, sky-scraper heels- the sort that make a woman's butt look positively divine incidentally- are something she is well practiced in... And she would happily bet almost _anything_ that the Mayor is under the impression that she'd be hard put to walk in even _moderate_ heels.

If any sort of feminine shoes at _all_.

Ruby offers a saucy wolf-whistle, standing a good inch shorter than the blonde now, and pulls on her coat.

"Well... _Whoever_ he is... He's in for a treat!"

"...Thanks..."

"Any time. Good luck, doll!"

* * *

Regina lies back serenely in the deep, claw-foot tub. Apple-cinnamon scented candles flicker gently on the windowsill, and she breathes in their heavenly aroma appreciatively. Her hair is slicked back wetly from her fine features; glistening in the dancing light of the flames. The warm, lavender scented water is topped with a sumptuous lather, riding sensually just under her breasts.

A minute frown crosses her brow momentarily as she imagines she hears a door down below open and shut, but she had checked on Henry before running her bath, and the young boy is sleeping soundly down the hall.

The house is old. Sometimes noises go unexplained.

Eventually the water begins to cool, and she rises gracefully from the tub; crystal droplets streaming down her flesh in freshets. She reaches for the fluffy white towel that hangs on the bar hooked at the back of the door and dries herself off methodically, leaving her hair to air dry.

She hangs the towel back in its place; the bathroom directly beside her bedroom and thus requiring no need for the dampened fabric, and makes to pad into her room to change. As she opens the bathroom door, she notices a soft glow emanating from the stairwell. Odd, as she had turned off all the lights downstairs and in the hallway upon retiring to her bath.

She creeps quietly into her room and dons the silk robe that hangs on the back of her door; pulling the material protectively over her bare form. Tying the sash around her waist, she pads cautiously down the hallway, hesitating for a moment at the top of the stairs, before tip-toeing stealthily down.

The light comes from her drawing room, and she frowns, suddenly sure she hears soft music creeping from behind the door. She walks quickly over to the kitchen and pulls a large carving knife from the top drawer of the cabinet, before bracing herself against the wall beside the entrance to the drawing room. Plucking up her courage, she pushes the door open with a bang; the knife held out in front of her protectively.

She isn't sure what she had been expecting...

Whatever it was, the scene she takes in upon entering the room is one for which she isn't prepared. Dropping the knife to the floor with a clatter, she remains stood in the doorway with her mouth open in disbelief.

"Good evening, Madame Mayor."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The lyrics aren't mine, they are by Darell Scott- 'Snow Queen and Drama Llama', with the pronouns altered slightly to fit the context of a f/f relationship. Please let me know what you think!

Regina blinks rapidly, as though she expects the scene before her to dissipate with the fluttering of her lashes. A large bottle of red wine rests on her ornate coffee table; a sentinel over two glasses filled to the brim which she recognizes to be from her own crockery cabinet. The room is awash with a flickering glow, and she guesses every single candle she owns- spare those she'd been enjoying in the bath- has been set out about the room and lit to create this beautiful setting. A fire roars magnificently in the hearth, casting dancing light over the woman sat on her sofa, who, after a moment's confusion, she recognizes for who she is.

"Emma...?"

No authoritative pretence. No use of the blonde's last name.

The Sheriff merely nods, once, sending soft curls tumbling gently over her shoulder, and motioning in a way that is uncharacteristically graceful that the Mayor should take a seat on the sofa opposite her. She does it as though this is her room- her space- and for now, that is exactly what it is.

The brunette doesn't move right away, but stays stood in the doorway, staring at the blonde as though seeing her for the first time.

 _This is Emma?_ Emma _?!_

Pulling herself together she pads lightly to her proffered seat, thankful for the fire that has warmed the stones beneath her feet. She pulls her robe to her body tightly before lowering herself against the cushions, continuing to drink in the woman sat before her.

"You look..."

The Sheriff raises an eyebrow expectantly as Regina searches for the right term.

_Even her damn eyebrows are magnificent._

"Yes, well, very nice, Miss Swan."

She alters her tone to become suddenly business-like, tearing her eyes from the younger woman and straightening the hem of her robe distractedly, sniffing in distaste. Emma, meanwhile, holds herself together; deciding to focus on Regina's words, rather than her tone.

"Thank you."

She says it softly, and with none of the brittleness she usually saves for the brunette. Regina is peculiarly reminded of the first night the two met and looks up in surprise, scolding herself when her eyes linger too long, too appreciatively. She reaches down to take a sip of the wine that rests between them, glancing at the bottle curiously. Its flavor is not what she had been expecting; for one, it is delectable.

"This is good..."

"I'm glad you like it."

Again, that pleasantly soft tone, and Regina eyes the blonde warily.

_Dear god, that dress fits her well..._

"I wouldn't have figured you for a wine connoisseur, Sheriff."

Her remark is baited. She is deeply curious about Emma's choice of drink; the dark red wine holding a delicate nose of chocolate and pepper. It is divine, but not at all something she would have thought the blonde would pick out. She is waiting for this disarming little charade to shatter into something more familiar. She waits for Emma to cuss, to roll her eyes, to adopt her ever grating- yet really quite arousing- sarcastic drawl.

It doesn't come.

"I'm not, really. I _know_ wine better than I _like_ wine... Personally I prefer whisky, but, being a woman, wine is what tends to be offered. In my old line of work, anyway... And I wouldn't figure _you_ to be particularly fond of whisky?"

Emma raises an eyebrow in question, taking a small sip from her glass. She is pretty sure that her left knee is shaking slightly, but she crosses her legs and hopes Regina doesn't notice. After all; she has done this a hundered times before. She can play a part.

She tries to imagine the brunette as just another perp.

"No, I'm not too fond of whisky..."

Silence falls over them like a shroud and the Mayor takes another sip of her drink. She is incredibly unnerved by this whole situation. She wants to let her eyes roam over to the blonde, to take in this new, intoxicating version of the Sheriff, but she is wary of doing so. Somehow she knows this is a side to Emma that is just for her, and there is something both alarming and exhilarating in that knowledge. In the back of her mind, she understands that this is all part of their ongoing game, but she _also_ understands that this is not about _her_. This is about Emma.

And she wonders momentarily if the blonde is aware of this herself.

As the silence drags on, Emma fights the urge to begin fidgeting; eyes flickering up periodically to study the Mayor who keeps her own eyes cast carefully down at the half empty bottle of wine on the table.

_This isn't how this was supposed to go..._

She takes a final sip of wine; the potent liquid coursing through her dizzyingly, its thrumming heat indistinguishable from the blood that pounds a little sickeningly in her chest.

"...Would you like to dance?"

Regina glances up at the Sheriff- sure she has misheard her- with an expression akin to shock. The blonde's cheeks flush an alarming shade of scarlet, but she keeps her head held high and rises gracefully from the couch; offering the Mayor her hand in a way that is so charmingly formal that the brunette takes it in simple reflex.

Emma's hand is warm in hers, and she notes an odd little twitch that flutters through slender fingers- the only physical sign of the blonde's nervousness- as she is led silently into the centre of the room. She doesn't recognize the quiet melody coming from her music system to be anything she owns, and she waits uncertainly in the middle of her drawing room as the Sheriff moves to hover over the CD player; flicking quickly through the tracks before finding one to her taste and turning up the volume.

She wanders hesitantly back to where the Mayor stands and places her hands awkwardly at the brunette's waist; her fingers slipping over the silk of the older woman's bathrobe. Instinctively, Regina swaps their positions. She does so silently, not pointing out that she doubts the blonde has the first clue about leading, but simply pulling the younger woman a little closer and encircling her waist. Emma stands a fair bit taller in her heels, but when she goes to remove them, the Mayor gives a small nudge of her hand against the Sheriff's ribs, indicating she wishes things to remain just the way that they are.

The music fades as a new song begins and Regina glances up at the blonde; finally allowing herself to give in to her. Deciding that _if_ this is all an act, she will at least get a dance out of it, and holding her closer still; her head spinning dizzily with the smell of spiced vanilla. As lyrics begin to lay themselves over the pleasant picking of the guitar, the Sheriff offers her a shy smile, and after a moment's hesitation she leans in for a taste.

_They were waiting at the depot, but it wasn't for a train_   
_They were underneath the weather; seeking shelter from the freezing rain._   
_Snow Queen to Drama Llama, said "you're weary to the bone!_   
_And though I'm not accustomed to it, I invite you to my icy home ...Come on over..._

_I will put you on my table, I will rub you up and down_   
_I will take a Russian fur hat, and I'll wear it like a Snow Queen crown..."_

_And the mountains they did tremble_   
_As the walls came tumbling down_   
_And the feeling it was simple_   
_As the snow lay on the ground_

_Drama Llama to her Snow Queen, said, "it's you I'm dreaming of._   
_All my life I've been a roamer, and it's led me to this pilgrim, love._   
_My eyes are overflowing; hell, they are not even tears,_   
_They're a rushing of a river that will flourish for a thousand years..."_

_Snow Queen to Drama Llama says "I know just what you mean;_   
_I went to see the gypsy- he said he saw you in my childhood dream..."_

_And her fingers they did tremble_   
_As her hair came tumbling down_   
_And their loving it was simple_   
_As their clothes lay all around..._

Regina groans as soft lips find her throat; the blonde's teeth running gently against her jaw before moving back down to breathe hotly into the hollow of her collarbone, all the while continuing to sway gently to the music.

She lets her fingers glide over the luxurious fabric of the Sheriff's dress. Every now and then she runs her hands simultaneously up the younger woman's hips; collecting the fabric to bunch slightly at the waist and thus expose a flash of thigh, but the blonde continues to move against her tantalizingly, while at the same time restricting her explorations.

The Sheriff is not an excellent dancer, but neither is she poor, and though the Mayor would never admit such a thing out loud, the slight awkwardness in the way Emma allows herself to be led is peculiarly endearing.

_Snow Queen and Drama Llama, they just could not make it last,_   
_While they were living in the moment alright, they could not outlive their pasts..._

_It came rushing in to choke them, like a blind thief in the night;_   
_Stealing kisses from a stranger, hoping this time they could get it right._   
_These masters of impermanence, they know everything must end,_   
_Another quarter in the jukebox, and you play that song again and again..._

_And the mountains ceased their trembling_   
_And the walls began to rise_   
_And they saw what they were missing_   
_When they opened their eyes_

_And the mountains ceased their trembling_   
_And the walls began to rise_   
_And love turned into a memory_   
_When they made up their minds_

_They were underneath the weather seeking shelter from the freezing rain_

_(It's cold outside...let me in...let me in)_

The music fades once more as another song begins and Emma presses her lips firmly against the Mayor's; hands wandering to the front of the darker woman's robe and pulling deftly at the silken tie that cinches the fabric in at her waist.

"Go to the desk..."

The Sheriff's whisper is soft in the brunette's ear; nothing like the harsh venom used the last time she had uttered the command. Regina complies with minimal hesitancy, stopping just short of the desk and turning back to regard the blonde levelly. Her dark eyes convey within them a very clear message: should Emma so much as _think_ about repeating her stunt from last time, the game will come to an end.

In a way, this result could be argued as a victory for the blonde, and while Regina is almost certain that the Sheriff will not play her final hand now- not after the way things have changed tonight- she needs to know for certain.

Emma shakes her head, and moves to back the Mayor the rest of the way into the desk with a soft push of her thighs.

_No. Not this time. This time it's different._

Pale fingers thread themselves through dark locks as the Sheriff brushes her lips against the brunette's slowly.

"I seem to remember you saying something about being left disappointed... Let's see if we can rectify that..."

It's a soft murmur; her lips never leaving the Mayor's as they whisper hot air over sensitive flesh. Regina sighs as the loosened tie of her robe is snaked gently from her body and the soft silk falls open to reveal her entirely. She runs her hand down to the hem of Emma's dress- plucking the material up pointedly- but the blonde steps quickly away with another shake of her head.

"Not yet."

The brunette frowns, but pulls herself swiftly up onto the desk; manoeuvring herself into the position she'd taken on its surface the previous week. Emma moves around to where the Mayor's head rests as she had done that day, but this time her features are soft in the firelight, and she tucks her hair gently behind her ears; inadvertently making herself look disarmingly innocent, but serving the purpose of keeping heavy curls from covering her face. She runs her finger lightly over the small scar at the Mayor's lip before climbing up onto the desk- careful not to jab the brunette with her heels- and straddling the older woman's bare hips gently.

Regina marvels at the feel of soft silk contrasting with the hot flesh of Emma's bare legs against her own and raises a brow expectantly. The blonde dips her head to beg access once more, while her fingers wander softly over the bare skin of the brunette's torso.

Everything is slow, sensual, and Regina closes her eyes as the blonde caresses her breasts; first with her hands, and then- after moving to kneel between her legs- with her tongue. She drags her fingers gently up the soft length of the brunette's thighs, occasionally turning her wrist so that her fingers whisper against the darker woman's sex.

"You're so lucky..."

The Mayor opens one eye distractedly and peers down at the blonde whose tongue is currently working a wet trail down from her navel.

"Hmm?"

"You're flawless... Beautiful..."

Regina closes her eyes once more, a soft smile creeping across her lips before gasping as the Sheriff's mouth reaches its target.

"No one is flawless, dear, but I admit, I am pretty close to it."

Her words come out choked and gravelly as her breathing breaks into pleasured gasps, and she's not sure if she had meant them humorously or not. She isn't embarrassed by the Sheriff's claim; she is under much the same impression herself after all. She _is_ surprised at the blonde's willingness to vocalize her opinion however, and, while not flattered by information she already knows, she is peculiarly touched by the gesture; understanding it to be yet another shift in their ever perplexing relationship. She wonders if Emma is aware of this also, but then two fingers slip sweetly into her slick entrance and she decides to ponder such things another time.

"Shit..."

She moves her hand down to rearrange the unruly tresses which have inevitably fallen to obscure her vision of the blonde's face. Green eyes flash up at her, and while she can tell by the blush that creeps over the Sheriff's cheeks that she is a little uncomfortable being watched performing such intimate ministrations, Emma allows her to tuck the escaped curls back in place.

The blonde quickens the pace of her fingers at the quiet urging of the Mayor, running her tongue firmly over the brunette's most sensitive spot before taking the little bundle of nerves into her mouth. Toned thighs begin to tremble tellingly around her and she curls her fingers to rub against the little raised patch of flesh at the older woman's entrance as clear moisture begins to run down her wrist.

"Oh, God, please!"

Dark eyes clamp shut and the Mayor's lithe form shudders sporadically on the desk, hands closing into tight fists and mouth open in a silent scream.

Emma waits for the darker woman to ride her pleasure out, keeping her fingers in place but easing up their frantic speed. She keeps her lips pressed to the brunette's core until shaking hands find her hair clumsily and pull her gently away.

"That was..."

Regina shakes her head, deciding she can't be bothered to find the correct term, sufficing instead to pull the younger woman back up onto her and finding her lips, caressing a soft- slightly damp- cheek with her thumb.

Emma runs her fingers through the brunette's dark hair as she leans down to hover over her lips. After what seems like hours, Regina's hands leave her face and move to her waist, pushing gently but firmly until their positions are reversed- the process a little awkward due to space- on the desk.

The brunette studies the younger woman lying beneath her intently; breathing in the lingering smell of her moisturizer and admiring the contrast of the delicate black fabric whispering across her pale skin. Blonde hair fans out around the Sheriff's head in a silken halo and Regina strokes a stray strand from her cheek before leaning down and whispering into golden tresses so quietly the words are instantly lost.

"Beautiful".


	17. Chapter 17

_"Beautiful."_

"Did you say something?"

"No, dear."

Regina leans in swiftly and nips at the blonde's clavicles to deter any further questioning. She pulls the Sheriff up so as to pull down the zipper hidden at the back of her dress, and begins pushing the fabric up the younger woman's body with firm strokes of her hand; thus revealing the black swatch of her thong and the dip of her navel. Emma attempts to help wrestle the intricate fabric from her shoulders and chest; her careless movements threatening to send them both toppling off the desk.

"Stop your fidgeting, Miss Swan!"

_The dress isn't even half way off her damn body and already the delusion of elegance comes crumbling down._

The Sheriff blushes lightly, and forces herself to remain still as the brunette plucks deftly at the delicate strings and whorls that flow across her shoulders until, finally, the dress is pulled up over her head in a shroud of midnight.

Regina lets the garment fall carefully to the floor; not wishing to damage the singular item of clothing the younger woman possesses that she doesn't deem hideous. Hooking her fingers into the tight cotton of the blonde's underwear, she drags it swiftly down long, toned legs; leaving the woman beneath her completely bare.

Fading bruises dapple the Sheriff's pale flesh where teeth and nails attacked her back in the jail cell, and Regina plays her fingers over these marks gently; mimicking their shapes and patterns, while occasionally pressing a little more firmly here and there.

"You bruise so easily..."

"Yes, my body's defenses when it comes to pseudo-rape are very much lacking."

The brunette scowls down at the blonde before rolling her eyes irritably. She should have known Emma's charming act could only last so long.

(She refuses to entertain the thought that perhaps she quite _enjoys_ the sardonic little quips forever stringing languidly from wicked lips.)

She can feel the color rising to her cheeks a little shamefully, which in turn fuels the beginnings of her anger. She doesn't like the Sheriff's wording in the slightest, and she glares down at the blonde with a distinctly caged expression, although her fingers continue to draw out intricate patterns on the younger woman's supple flesh.

"Well, you deserved it. It was pay back. It wasn't... What you said."

"Oh?"

Regina scowls as the blonde raises an eyebrow, and she pulls her hands swiftly away from soft skin.

"You threatened me with a blade and left me lying, wanting, on my own damn desk!"

"Uhuh, _you_ , meanwhile, cuffed me to your goddamned door and treated me like some kind of _whore_... Twice..."

The Mayor flips her hair back irritably; a burning loathing growing within her at being called out. In her own mind, she can't see how the two could possibly be compared.

In her own mind, she has always looked out for number one. Looked out for herself.

In her own mind, donning an expensive dress does not give others the right to run their mouths. Not if they do so against her.

"Well, I simply call it like I see it, _dear._ "

The blonde goes rigid beneath her, and then an angry hiss escapes deliciously sex-swollen lips.

"Get off me."

Regina blinks down at the younger woman in hazy confusion. She is used to the anger that laces the Sheriff's voice; having suffered through the tedious act of listening to the irksome woman rant and rave in that ever sarcastic way of hers many a time.

This is different though. This is raw.

She expects strong fingers to claw at her bare legs and sharp hips to buck tantalizingly against her own. Instead she is met only with a hurt green glare that doesn't quite make sense to her.

She is angry at Emma for her phrasing as to what had happened back at the Station. She was simply serving out _punishment_ , and if the blonde had really, _truly_ been scared or in pain. she should have damn well said something _then_. Not now.

The brunette's head spins. Tonight has been nothing short of a rollercoaster, and now she struggles to make sense of things.

_This is how this is supposed to work. We argue... And now; We have sex._

The blonde is supposed to snipe back at her. Goad her. Set her up for her next line.

"Miss Swan-"

"-I said get _off_ me!"

The blonde's voice breaks on the last word, and she hates herself for it.

 _Why the fuck did I think this would be a good idea? Like things were_ ever _going to be fucking fair!_

Regina stays put, dark eyes roaming over the Sheriff's pale face curiously. She vaguely recalls her earlier bout of apprehension that the younger woman was planning to play her winning hand and call an end to their little game.

Their fucking _game_.

Dark shadow, so meticulously applied, still smokes beautifully around stormy eyes and the Mayor's expression of distaste gradually disappears. She lowers herself slowly down until her weight is carried on her forearms which rest- cushioned by blonde curls- flush with the desk's surface; bringing her nose to nose with the Sheriff. Emma glares up at her haughtily, but there is a fragility in her eyes that the brunette doesn't miss.

When she speaks, the brunette's voice is low, and while her words could be considered goading, her tone is neutral and she shows no intention of removing herself from the slim form pinned beneath her.

"You shouldn't have walked out like that..."

"And _you_ shouldn't have left me in those fucking cuffs!"

"...I know..."

Perfect lips press softly against the blonde's left eye- brushing against the small nick that mars the flesh of her brow bone- before the Mayor runs an uncharacteristically gentle hand through the Sheriff's hair; smoothing it back from her forehead.

"I know that..."

She moves her lips to Emma's and nips at them gently. She isn't deterred when she is met with resistance; simply continuing to brush, lick and nibble softly.

Eventually she feels taut limbs beneath her begin to relax, and she manages to part the Sheriff's lips with a hard swipe of her tongue. She closes her eyes and deepens their kiss, but when she runs her hand sensually down between their bodies, the blonde presses her legs pointedly together.

_Anyone would think she's never been called a whore before..._

Regina banishes her inner goading irritably. She doesn't believe for a second that the Sheriff hasn't heard a thousand times worse, but she feels momentarily sheepish for her little quip at the younger woman's expense. Not because she feels she is entirely in the _wrong_ , but because of tonight. Tonight was supposed to be about Emma, and she knows that the blonde's efforts to present herself the way she has won't have come easily.

Somewhere, in the very narrow crawl-space of her mind where her younger self still lingers, she wishes to simply whisper into the blonde's ear that none of this was necessary. That, while they will always be at each other's throats, and there will always be this battle for power between them, she hadn't expected the younger woman to make the efforts she has tonight. Not when she can't bring herself to acknowledge them.

_It is easier to hurt her than to compliment her._

Instead, she merely skims her hand over the apex of the blonde's thighs and back up to rest on her stomach, trailing her lips all the while down the Sheriff's throat.

"Your reasons for being angry with me for cuffing you are vastly different to my reasons for being angry at you for walking out on me, Miss Swan."

She doesn't go on to vocalize what those reasons might have been; the fact that she had wanted the younger woman, had craved her and had loathed being denied her. She suspects the Sheriff may just be smart enough to put two and two together and figure that part out for herself.

Emma sighs and closes her eyes, running her hands up the Mayor's hips in a way that seems promising until she begins to roll out from under her.

"I should go."

Regina frowns, but allows the blonde to climb out from beneath her long-legged prison. She lowers herself back down so that her butt rests on the desk; feeling monumentally deflated despite her recent climax. She watches silently as the younger woman pulls her dress back over her head and fusses distractedly over the complex pattern of strings that cross over her pale shoulders.

Emma pulls hatefully at one of the small, curved straps that sits awkwardly across her collarbone, her eyes flickering over to the brunette's. Her shoulders droop at the expression ill-hidden on the Mayor's enviable features. She understands she has just been offered as close to an apology as she can hope to achieve, but she needs to get out of here. At least for the time being.

Regina's lips thin stoically as green eyes dart over to hers; her shoulders tensing as the blonde takes a hesitant step closer and presses her lips dryly against her own. A slender hand finds her bare thigh and squeezes it tentatively, and she suddenly pushes back- passionately- into the Sheriff's kiss before the younger woman pulls away.

Sighing, the brunette works her fingers deftly over the whorls of black at the blonde's shoulders to pull the defiant fabric of her dress correctly into place. She applies a little extra pressure with her fingers as she completes her task, causing the younger woman to raise her eyes and find her gaze.

"You're so lucky..."

The Sheriff's brow creases in confusion. The Mayor tucks blonde curls behind the younger woman's ear.

"Huh?"

"I'm not going to tell you that you're flawless... But you _are_ beautiful."

Emma stares back at her incredulously, and Regina struggles to hide her amusement. Instead, she nods curtly; the movement graceful, despite the fact that she still kneels atop the desk, her body intimately displayed. She offers the Sheriff a nonchalant shrug of slender shoulders, before pulling her gaping robe around her body.

"Go home and get some sleep, Sheriff...Consider tonight a draw... I expect I'll see you sooner rather than later."


	18. Chapter 18

The Mayor places the two- now sparkling clean- wine glasses back on their shelf with a sigh. She closes the rich maplewood cupboard gently, shutting them into darkness. The majority of the candles the blonde lit on her arrival have burned down to nothing, but she goes about blowing out the flickering survivors methodically before retreating to take a seat on the sofa where this all began. She stares into the flames that lick at the sooty bricks of the hearth thoughtfully, running a small swatch of her silk robe repetitively through her fingers.

"Peculiar..."

She muses quietly. Earlier on in the week, when things had been moving so fast and furious that her head had had trouble keeping up with her sex, she had negated to dwell on the changes to her relationship with the Sheriff.

Tonight has changed things. As has the week spent being denied time with the younger woman.

She is unsure whether this is something she views positively; not one to set herself up for disappointment, and, while she is loathe to admit it, she is in tune with her own feelings well enough to know that this is what she will feel should Emma now decide she wishes to call an end to their curious liaisons.

_It's just sex. You'll just find someone else. Perhaps someone better dressed and with fewer opinions._

Frustratingly, she is bemused to find that she no longer believes this to be the case. The sex, while being undeniably good, is still just that. She is impressed with the blonde's capabilities and with her surprising sensuality, but she knows that if this whole business was entirely physical she would be sound asleep right now rather than staring contemplatively into the fire.

A frown creases the smooth skin of her brow as she realises she might just like the Sheriff on a personal level as well... Not in a _friendly_ way; there is little animosity between them and she doubts there ever will be...

_Perhaps 'like' is too strong a word._

No. She doesn't _like_ the Sheriff.

 _But I don't_ hate _her either._

Pulling herself from her reverie, the Mayor rises briskly to dampen the flames dancing within the fireplace; shaking her head as if to shake the young blonde from her thoughts.

As she closes the door to the drawing room behind her and pads up the stairs, she ponders with belated curiosity that the two of them have finished off a fair bit of wine. She also notes that she doesn't recall hearing the horrendous shuddering wheeze of the blonde's shitty little car earlier.

_She walked all this way?... Just for..._

She shrugs; waving away the thought with the notion that the woman must be partially insane and is therefore not to be worried about.

* * *

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Emma mutters under her breath as she stalks quickly through pitch black streets. Her logic is currently berating her caustically; demanding to know at what point she'd figured it'd be a good idea to wander around town in nothing but a slip of a dress and killer heels with December fast approaching. Her muscles ache with the frigid cold and her teeth chatter restlessly behind wind-chapped lips.

"Swan, you fucking idiot!"

The anger and- as much as she hates to admit the emotion- hurt that had flooded her system upon leaving the Mayor's mansion have now boiled down to a deep, simmering loathing as to her predicament, and, while this is slightly healthier on the mind, the lack of furious adrenaline leaves her body acutely aware of winter's wrath.

_Not to mention the fact that Regina's ill remark was never more ironic; bare legs, arms and chest flashing like beacons in the night._

As if on cue- as she finally begins her way down Main Street- flat footsteps suddenly echo her own. Wishing for her gun but sufficing to simply curl her fists, the Sheriff whirls around combatively to find the source of those accompanying little taps.

"Good evening, Sheriff."

"Dr Whale..."

_Ugh, why? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why him?_

"You're looking lovely tonight... As usual."

She turns to face him with cheeks flushed pink; whether with annoyance or simply due to the ever dropping temperature is up for debate.

"What do you want?"

"Want? Oh, I don't want anything... Although, perhaps, if you were to ask what I should _like_ , then I would very much like to ask you over for a drink or two?"

"Classy, what with your oh-so-successful dates with my roommate and all..."

She pulls at the hem of her dress warily; feeling suddenly very much on display. She quickens her pace in an attempt to outrun the doctor, but the peculiar young man simply matches her rapid footsteps stride for stride.

"Precisely; they were unsuccessful, although don't get me wrong, Mary Margaret is a wonderful young woman, but not one with such... Aesthetic appeal.. As yourself, Miss Swan."

He raises his eyebrows at her pointedly while bright eyes roam shamelessly over the flesh she has on display. The blonde comes to an abrupt halt and rounds on the doctor angrily.

"Look, I'm just trying to get home so I can crawl under my covers and sleep. _Alone_."

"Ah... So your date didn't go to plan then?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your dress says you were hoping to get lucky. Your mood suggests this wasn't the case?... The other party's loss, I can assure you, Sheriff."

"Whatever... Are you seriously going to follow me home? Are you not getting the hint?"

A small voice in the back of her mind scolds her for being rude, but goddamn it, she just wants to fall into bed and forget this whole wretched night. Her limbs ache and her skin is uncomfortably tight with cold. Her chilled shaking has resulted in several small stumbles, causing her ankles to throb miserably over her high, black heels.

"You come across as the sullen, sultry type; can't blame a man for trying. Most women would be _flattered_ to be approached by a doctor..."

Emma rolls her eyes- silently damning small-town ideals- and tosses her hair back as they continue down the tungsten-lit street at an almost comical pace; each trying to out step the other.

"Yeah? Well, not _this_ woman."

 _So, you're a doctor; whoop-di-fucking-doo. I suppose if you were a doctor of the psychiatric persuasion we would at least have something to talk about. After all, I damn well_ need _my head examined after what I tried to pull tonight..._

"You're sure?"

"Look, Whale, you say you wanted to ask me for a drink, and hell knows, I could do with one... But all I want to do right now is pretend this town doesn't exist and just pass out dreamlessly on my bed... Perhaps not the most enticing of desires, but a true wish nonetheless... And if you would be so kind as to fuck off and leave me alone, my dream may just become a reality."

The Doctor looks taken aback and the Sheriff reprimands herself for her use of language as, finally, the tall man eases up in his pursuit and she finds herself stalking quickly ahead of him. She turns to offer a pathetic attempt at an apologetic 'goodnight', but catches him staring shamelessly at her ass and simply shrugs and continues to storm off home.

"This town would be so much more tolerable if there weren't any fucking _people_ in it!"


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, the internet went down today, so I was simply forced to write and neglect all work 'til it came back on :)
> 
> Sorry this is a long note, just a couple of points:
> 
> 1) I know I have shamelessly stolen the Nutella scene from my 'Morning After' fic, but it's just something I can absolutely see those two doing.
> 
> 2) I don't know what the US version of 'Lemsip' is, but if anyone is wondering what the hell I'm on about, it's a medicine for cold/ flu/ sore throat.

"Emma!"

The schoolteacher smiles in surprise as she greets the blonde sat sprawled out at the kitchen table; her feet crossed neatly one over the other on its pitted surface. She is unaccustomed to seeing the Sheriff up and about so early before lunch on her day off, and from the looks of things, her housemate has showered and dressed and everything!

_Wonders will never cease._

Mary Margaret makes her way over to the coffee maker, prodding at the blonde's feet as she passes in a silent request she remove them from the table. Emma rolls her eyes but swings her legs obediently down, stifling a yawn and pulling her recently washed hair into a damp knot.

"You're up early."

"Maybe you're just up late?"

The schoolteacher glances with momentary alarm at the old clock that hangs in the far corner. Seven twenty.

"Nope... It's you..."

"Ah, then I must have just wanted to hear the sounds of the birds waking up and watch the sunrise."

"Yes, because that sounds _so_ much like you..."

" _Or_ maybe I just woke up with a bitch of a cold and couldn't get back to sleep; I'll spare you any in-depth medical details, but I'd guess the shade I was coughing up could be called moss green."

"Ew."

"Very."

"Well, that's too bad. You don't _sound_ too good, actually."

"Gee, thanks..."

Mary Margaret sighs; too used to her housemate's incessant quips to make the mistake of carrying on this little double act. Instead, she switches the kettle on and pours a small sachet of Lemsip into a large mug; stirring in some honey once the water has come to the boil.

"Here."

"Thanks."

Emma takes the proffered mug and tries not to wrinkle her nose at it too obviously or eye the school-teacher's coffee with visible envy. Taking a sip of the medicinal hot water she licks her lips and stifles another yawn.

Mary Margaret takes a seat across from the blonde and regards her with an ill-hidden grin.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, I'm just wondering how long it's going to be before you come clean about where you keep sneaking off to..."

"...How do you mean?"

"Come on, Emma, you're _clearly_ up to something! You weren't home until well after midnight again last night-"

"-I didn't realize you were keeping tabs?"

"I'm not! I went to bed at quarter past and you weren't back yet... And all last weekend you were nowhere to be found. So, go on, tell me... Who do you keep creeping out to see?"

"Who says I'm seeing _anyone_? Maybe I'm just going out for a run?"

"Ah yes, midnight running, that must be it... Come on, Emma, don't be coy, you're _clearly_ seeing someone."

"Ugh, you've been talking to Ruby"

"Ruby?"

"No, not like that, never mind... Look, can we just drop this?"

"We can, after you tell me who."

"Mary Margaret..."

"It's not _Gold_ , is it?"

"Ew, no! Why is that everyone's first guess?"

"Well, you two are always locking horns, and you're _definitely_ someone I can imagine liking a little... Umm.. Conflict..."

She shuts up swiftly, taking heed of the dark thunder crossing the Sheriff's brow. Holding her hands up in mock surrender she grins at the blonde who shoots daggers with her glare.

"Ok, ok, not Gold!... Dr Whale?"

"No!"

"Hey, it's ok, I wouldn't mind..."

"Well, _I_ would! The guy's an asshole!"

"He is a little bit of a... Well, yes, you actually worded it quite well... Leroy?"

"As much as I'm sure our love for the drink could bring us together, I don't date guys I could use as a shelf to rest my beer on."

"Emma! That's mean!"

"No, it's not, it's true."

"Maybe.. But it's still not a very nice thing to say..."

"So? Maybe I'm just not a very nice person?"

The schoolteacher sighs as Emma regards her moodily over the top of her mug. The effect is somewhat ruined as the blonde breaks down into a fit of chesty coughing.

"No, you're a nice person, Emma, you're just good at hiding it sometimes."

"Like an emotional ninja."

"Yes... Whatever _that_ is."

Mary Margaret smiles, shaking her head, and finds a packet of oatmeal in the cupboard beneath the kitchen island. She mixes up a batch before placing it in the microwave. Humming quietly, she goes about gathering together books and papers for class- the school closed for the best part of the week due to decorating necessities, but her marking and paperwork still due for another three days- chatting companionably to her housemate as she hurries around the room.

Emma watches her scurry about amiably, moving to rest with her backside against the kitchen units and grabbing a large pot of Nutella from the pantry. She reaches behind her for a spoon from the drying rack, and digs it deep into the soft chocolate; bringing a heaped mound of the spread to her mouth and savoring it absent-mindedly.

Mary Margaret finally concludes that she has all of her things together and hurries over to the microwave as it pings to let her know her breakfast is ready. She helps herself to some dried berries from a jar by the window and scatters them over the steaming bowl before digging in to several large mouthfuls. Turning to face the Sheriff, she frowns at the blonde, rolling her eyes.

"Hey!"

Emma blinks in confusion as the jar of chocolate spread is expertly pinched from her hands and the bowl of her housemate's remaining oatmeal is shoved firmly in its place.

"Eat something _normal_ for a change. Especially if you're sick."

"I'm not _sick_ , it's just a cold, and chocolate spread _is_ normal, you can buy it anywhere!"

"To put on bread, not to eat on its own like ice cream!"

"Ooh, ice cream!"

The blonde shoves the bowl of congealed porridge away onto the counter and turns around to the freezer behind her wih a grin.

"Emma!"

"Jeez, _mom_ , relax, I was just kidding..."

"Uhuh... Just eat the damn oatmeal."

Emma throws her a petulant glare before playing her spoon childishly through the less than appetizing mush that cakes the sides of the bowl. Rolling her eyes, Mary Margaret reclaims the abused breakfast and proceeds to eat the rest of it herself.

"Fine, go hungry, suit yourself."

* * *

"Henry, come back here, please."

The Mayor glances up from her book and waits for her son to return to the kitchen. She regards him with fond irritability, brushing his sleep-induced cowlick to the side and plucking fussily at his sweater.

"Go change into a thicker sweater, it's freezing out. And, if you're going out to play in the woods with Emma, put on some old jeans; these are for indoors only."

"I'm not going out to see Emma..."

His answer is reflexive, not wishing to get into trouble for sneaking out to see the blonde. In actual fact, that's exactly where he's headed; Emma having agreed- after a little pleading over the walkie- to meet him at their recently installed make-shift swing. With a little extra graft, he'd even managed to convince her to pick up two hot chocolates on the way down. Not that she'd seemed to mind the notion; muttering something about lack of food and the onset of sure starvation.

"Oh, really?"

Regina raises an eyebrow disbelievingly and purses her lips. Henry rolls his eyes- w _hy does he have to do that in the exact same way she does?-_ before studying his shoes sheepishly.

"It's the first day of holidays... I don't have any homework and Emma said she doesn't have any paperwork to do... Please?"

"I don't like you lying to me, Henry."

She frowns at him sternly, but she'd be lying herself if she said she hadn't expected her son to be meeting up with the Sheriff. A relieved warmth spreads oddly to her lips, although she quickly tells herself that she hadn't, once again, been mildly concerned about the blonde getting herself home last night without either catching pneumonia or being mown down by a car.

_Idiotic woman; walking all this way in those ridiculous heels when there's not even a goddamn sidewalk_ _some of the time._

The fact that Emma has clearly agreed to meet up with her son would also suggest that the blonde isn't sobbing into her pillow like an emotional wreck. The brunette supposes such expectations may point to herself having a profoundly _presumptuous_ grasp on the Sheriff's feelings towards her- and she's loathe to admit she _is_ perhaps a little disappointed- but she shrugs this thought aside irritably.

As if she _hasn't_ spent the past ten hours replaying their previous meeting over and over in her mind.

"Go up and change and then I have something I'd like you to give Emma when you see her."

Henry glances up at her quizzically, but she flaps her hand at him until he scampers off upstairs to throw on some more suitable clothes.

She sighs and pulls a small manila envelope from her suit pocket; assessing its peculiar weight thoughtfully. She considers writing the blonde's name across the front, but opts against it; deciding there to be little point if Henry is to be the one delivering the letter.

Henry comes skidding back into view, now clad in grass-stained jeans and an incredibly baggy grey hoodie emblazoned with Red Sox branding.

"Where did you get that?"

"It's Emma's."

_Of course it is._

"I was unaware you were so short of clothes we were having to accept charity now."

She sniffs primly, and holds out the envelope to her son.

"Give this to Miss Swan when you see her, and under no circumstances do you lose this, do you understand? Or there will be consequences, young man."

He takes the envelope gingerly, rocking it curiously back and forth when he feels something small and solid slide around gently inside.

"What is it?"

"That's none of your concern, don't be nosy; it's rude. And don't you go opening it either, Henry, it's an official item between the Sheriff and myself, do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... Mom."

"Good, now off you go... And Henry... Have fun..."

"Thanks!"

"And wear your coat!"

She shouts after him as the small boy runs eagerly out the door.


	20. Chapter 20

" _Ah_! Crap! Watch it!"

The blonde holds the paper cups of hot chocolate quickly away from herself on instinct; warm, brown froth spattering up from the mouth pieces as she jumps in surprise. Henry removes his small hands sheepishly from the Sheriff's shoulders where he had grabbed her, unsuspectingly, from behind, having spotted her sat patiently on a fallen tree beside their swing.

"Sorry!"

He scrambles up to sit opposite her; straddling the mossy log with his sneakered feet dangling a good few inches off the ground on either side. She hands him one of the steaming cups and moves herself into a similar position to face him.

"It's ok, I'd just rather not be _wearing_ it, that's all."

Henry grins and takes a sip of his drink, eyeing the blonde curiously. Being a ten year old boy, he has never before spent much time contemplating the Sheriff's use of makeup- other than having been informed by his mother, shortly after Emma's arrival, that her resultant look was 'cheap'- but seeing the pale woman completely barefaced now, he notices the difference instantly.

"That bad, huh?"

Emma gives him a knowing glance and he smiles brightly, shaking his head with all the genuine honesty of a small child. She chuckles huskily and takes a sip of her own hot chocolate; lamenting the way her current ill health allows her to feel the burn but not taste the sweetness.

"So, you managed to get out the house then? Is your mom working?"

"No, she doesn't have any meetings today, she'll probably just spend the day baking or something."

Emma raises an eyebrow; partly at the idea of the brunette arms deep in flour, and partly due to the fact that there is no way Regina's sharp, watchful eye would allow her son to leave the house undetected.

"...Does she know you're here?"

"Uhuh."

"And she was ok with that?"

Henry shrugs his shoulders, resting his chin thoughtfully on the lid of his cup.

"She didn't really say anything about it, apart from that I had to change into my jeans... Oh, and to give you this..."

He reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out the small manila envelope, holding it out to the blonde who eyes it warily before taking it gingerly from his small hand.

Emma frowns when she feels the small object lightly weighting the envelope on one side. She glances up at Henry, whose eyes are fixed on the letter in her hand, before he realizes his nosiness isn't going unnoticed and looks away sheepishly; seeming suddenly absorbed in his hot chocolate. The blonde feels her own cheeks pinken; mystified at what the Mayor could possibly wish to send her, and unsure whether whatever the answer to that may be is suitable for the boy to see.

Henry's curiosity gets the better of him, and he looks back up at the Sheriff inquisitively.

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know, kid. Knowing your mom, it could be anything from a dinner invitation to anthrax. In fact, the second is more likely..."

"What's anthrax?"

She looks up distractedly and realizes she has been musing aloud. She shakes her head, doubting that discussing methods of biological warfare is a good idea with a kid that already believes his mother to be the evil queen.

"Nothing... A band..."

She shrugs at Henry's perplexed expression and slides her finger deftly beneath the envelope's flap; sliding it open with a neat swipe of her finger. Peering curiously inside, a frown settles slowly across her brow.

"What is it?"

She pulls out the small item carefully and holds it up between them.

"A key?"

Henry's eyes flicker with recognition and a frown creases his forehead to match Emma's uncannily.

"That's one of my mom's skeleton keys..."

"Skeleton keys? To what?"

"I don't know... She has loads of them."

"What's this one for?"

"I don't know, they all look the same..."

Emma studies the key closely; not quite sure what to make of it. She checks the envelope for any sign of a clue but it is otherwise empty.

"...Weird"

Tipping back the rest of her hot chocolate, the blonde shoves the empty cup under her bag to be discarded later and pushes the small, silver key deep into her jeans pocket. She offers Henry a winning smile- an expression until recently saved _only_ for the small boy and occasionally her housemate- and swings her legs up and around, jumping easily from the log.

"So, I figured our swing worked so well, we should try a treehouse."

Henry's eyes light up and widen comically, causing the Sheriff to laugh until she throws herself into a coughing fit. Henry thumps her companionably on the back and scrambles off the log.

"With what?"

"Well, it won't be anything fancy, but I used to make them as a kid just with sticks and branches and stuff I found lying around. We just need to find a tree with the right fork in its branches and then we can lay the sticks across to make a small shelter... It's quite fun..."

She tags this last part on dubiously, slowly realizing that what she had thought would be something Henry would enjoy immensely may actually seem rather lame in this day and age. She imagines he has seen a great many expertly crafted tree houses, and supposes a simple roof of ill-dispersed twigs may seem rather lacking in comparison. To her relief, Henry lets out a drawling 'Yeah, that sounds awesome!', which she suspects is her own influence- and she suspects this with a marginal sense of pride- and immediately goes about collecting suitable branches.

* * *

"Easy, kid, you got it?"

Henry glances down at the blonde with bright eyes that are slightly too wide for her liking, but experience over the past couple of hours has taught her not to keep pestering him on whether or not he is comfortable being up at the height they currently occupy. She imagines the answer is, in fact, no, but the small brunet seems determined to prove himself. She would scold him over his perceived necessity to do so, but knows she would do exactly the same. Instead, she smiles up at him encouragingly; keeping her grip on his skinny shin firm, but casual.

They currently reside a good eight feet clear of the forest floor; Emma with her boots planted squarely on a thick branch jutting out of an old maple tree, her hips steadied against the smaller branch on which Henry clings as he carefully pushes a handful of twigs amongst the branches they have already managed to lay across the highest fork of the tree. She has given up offering to do this herself, and so simply keeps herself, and by default Henry, steady as they work.

"Yeah... I got it."

He speaks through gritted teeth, the concentration written clearly across his face, but at the tightening of Emma's fingers he looks down at her briefly with an encouraging grin. His cheeks are flushed scarlet with the brisk winter air, and his hair sticks up in all the wrong places. She can't help but watch him humorously as he goes about each, meticulous movement; delighting in the fact that today is about them just having fun, and that for once the damn fairytale book has remained unopened in his rucksack.

It's not that she doesn't acknowledge the fact that _without_ the book she would most likely be sat trawling through incriminating technical data in her apartment back in Boston; vodka in hand, Waits on the sound system... It's just, sometimes she worries that once Henry realises how fucking nuts this whole fairytale thing is, he won't have a use for her anymore.

She has found this thought to be more and more unsettling.

"Nice one. Ok, come back down and we'll get some more, I think it'll only take two more trips!"

"Wicked!"

_Now that one's definitely on her... Thoroughly Boston._

Henry shimmies slowly back down the branch on which he perches so that his jean-clad butt pushes against Emma's hand, and she holds him steady as he swings his leg round to lower his feet onto the branch below.

She doesn't say anything, but he can see the cautious worry in the set of her jaw and he decides he doesn't want the blonde to think him babyish and so lowers himself down quickly to land with his small feet beside hers in one deft motion.

The achieving grin on his face is short-lived, as the weary branch they now both stand on gives an alarming crack reminiscent of a gunshot, and the two find themselves suddenly falling gracelessly to the ground. Enough goes through the Sheriff's head to grab Henry and pull him to her, leaning a little into the fall so that she is somewhat beneath him, but it is a vague and harried thought; instinctive.

"Ow..."

They land in a tangled heap, Henry with his arms flung- panicked- around the blonde's neck; his small frame cushioned clumsily by hers, but not enough to avoid his fair share of scrapes and duly blooming bruises. Emma blinks up at him through watering eyes, but can't help herself from letting out a small, shaken, laugh. He rolls himself off of her gingerly, allowing her to sit up with a wince and survey the damage.

They are surrounded by a litter of snapped twigs and foliage, while the guilty branch lies forlorn to their left. The sweatshirt she'd lent Henry now sports a healthy rip across its right sleeve and a small amount of blood wells up from a scrape along his forearm to match the bloodied grazes at his palms. She panics when she takes in a dark smear across his forehead, but a second glance reveals the mark to be nothing but mud.

The Sheriff hasn't faired any better; her own hands sporting scarlet swatches where the skin has been torn ruthlessly as a result of uselessly grabbed branches, and the knees of her jeans are ripped and bloodied. A thin laceration grazes her forehead before tapering off into her hairline.

"Holy crap... Are you alright, kid?"

She takes his arm gently in her hands and rolls up the ruined sleeve to assess the damage. He doesn't cry, for which she is grateful, and the cut is shallow; just a sporadic beading of blood as the damage is only to the very top layer of skin. Henry rubs at the muddy streak on his forehead tentatively, checking himself over before looking up at the Sheriff to give her a shaky nod.

"Wow... Well... At least the treehouse survived!"

She points up above them to where a perfect thatching of interwoven leaves and twigs creates a small shelter. Henry follows her gaze and lets out a breathy chuckle before glancing back at the blonde and suddenly noticing a small trickle of blood making its way lazily down her cheekbone.

"Emma, you're hurt!"

"Huh, where?"

She notes her grazed knees distractedly, but is surprised when Henry touches his small hand to her cheek; eyes wide with concern. She rubs her hand curiously over the side of her face and raises an eyebrow when her fingers come back red.

"Oh, I guess I got cut by a branch or something."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah, I'll live... Well... Actually, if your mom finds out..."

She bites her lip nervously, but Henry gives her a burlesque wink- something she has been teaching him, and he is finally able to do without screwing up the entire side of his face- and points over to his rucksack.

"It's ok, I have my coat, she'll never notice."

Emma grins down at him, before licking her fingers childishly and rubbing at the dirt that still clings to his pale forehead.

"Eww!"

Henry pushes her away, laughing, wiping at his face with his sleeve.

"Don't you 'eww' me! I'm trying to help!"

"I don't want your gross spit on me!"

"Is that so?"

She leans menacingly over him and makes as if to spit while he shrieks giddily and scrambles away laughing.

"Emma!"

"What?"

He scoops up a handful of leaves and pours them over her in a flurry before sprinting away, only to have strong arms encircle him and tackle him, carefully, to the floor. He crows delightedly and follows suit when the blonde pushes herself up and stretches out so that she sits with her back to the log on which they had previously perched; breath coming out in misted pants and hair spilling everywhere in a spectacular mess. He peers up at her out of the corner of his eye mischievously, subconsciously rearranging his limbs so that his position mimics the Sheriff's exactly.

"Your head's bleeding, still."

"Yeah? I guess I'm just a poor, wounded survivor of the terrible treehouse accident of 2012... Tragic."

"Hey, I'm wounded too!"

He shows her his scraped arm, waving the limb around pointedly, and she sighs dramatically; eyes glittering impishly in the fading daylight.

"Yes, but not like I am... I don't know if I'll make it back... You might have to carry me."

"I _can't_ carry you!"

"Then you'll have to go on without me, my injuries; they're too severe."

"Mine are, too! My injuries are _totally_ severe! My hands are worse than yours are!"

"Oh? Well I've lost more blood than you have."

"I have more bruises!"

"Well, mine are deeper!"

"Mine hurt more!"

"Do they?"

"Uhuh... _Way_ more than yours!"

She laughs and gives him a nudge as he pulls at her hands to display the palms; all the better to compare their war wounds.

* * *

"What the hell do you think you're playing at, Miss Swan?"

Regina snaps angrily as she storms through the irksome fortress of trees. She inwardly damns the fact that she had declined to change before heading out; her sharp heels sinking maddeningly into the packed dirt of the forest floor.

She has spent the day on edge with the knowledge of Henry being out with the blonde; hating the very fact itself, but knowing by now that her son will only strive harder to find ways around her rules if she forbids him from seeing the Sheriff altogether. She had paced her impressive kitchen irritably; failing to see what those two could possibly be doing in the woods all this time.

She wonders what Emma has made of her little gift.

She has been irate and ill-tempered since the moment Henry scampered out the door, but she had forced herself to keep busy. To keep herself in check. Until now. The cold steel of the winter sky is fast deepening to a bruised purple, and the temperature has dropped accordingly.

She had waited until half past five- half an hour _past_ the time Henry knows he is expected home- before wrestling on her coat and driving her Benz down to the small turning point she knows to be closest to her son's new meeting place, fuming loudly the entire way.

Now, as she stumbles over a gnarled upturned root she wonders if, perhaps, this despicable insolence isn't simply another degree of punishment on the blonde's behalf.

"Go to hell!"

She glares at the accusatory root murderously; scarlet painted lips pursed in distaste. Why anyone would _choose_ to spend their time out in this dump is beyond her... But then, she is aware of the Sheriff's poor choices by now.

Finally, as she stalks briskly up a remarkably steep incline- with more grace than anyone should be capable of when wearing Jimmy Choo's in a November Maine forest- she hears the telling murmur of voices. Cresting the hill, she can see her son and the blonde chatting away with their backs resting companionably against a filthy fallen tree; showing no intention of moving anytime soon despite the indigo haze of twilight settling merrily about them.

Her first instinct is to storm over from her secluded viewpoint and give the younger woman a piece of her mind; her anger at being left alone in her mansion to stew indefinitely still coursing hotly in her blood. She struggles to quell this urge however, not wishing to instigate a blowout in front of Henry- for fear of him instantly siding with Emma- as well as not being entirely sure as to her current situation with the blonde.

She finds that now she is actually _within_ screaming distance of the Sheriff- and, incidentally, viewing distance- she is less inclined to do so.

Instead, she watches as Henry points to something in his hand and then appears to do the same to the blonde's hands. She can hear the jovial quip of their voices but fails to decipher any words. The tone of Emma and Henry's conversation is painfully obvious, however. They are simply 'assing around' as she has heard the blonde put it. Something that she herself and Henry haven't done in as long as she can remember.

The rage that this thought conjures depletes defeatedly as she continues to observe the way the Sheriff chats to the small boy. Emma has her head cocked to the side, regarding him with a dry smile. The body the brunette has come to know intimately well is swaddled in her parka- _that fucking parka_ \- and surprisingly baggy jeans which appear to have obnoxious rips at their muddied knees. The blonde nods attentively as Henry chatters away at a mile a minute, and, despite her loathing at her exclusion from this little scenario, Regina finds herself intrigued by the openness on the younger woman's face as she regards their son.

Mentally shaking herself, she gathers her thoughts and marches briskly out from her shadowed vantage point and into clear view.

"Henry! What time do you call this?!"

"Mom!... I-"

"-And _you_! You should have sent him home at least an hour ago!"

"Regina..."

Henry and Emma scramble quickly to their feet, facing the Mayor; Henry with his eyes cast down sheepishly and Emma with her hands on her hips, her expression suddenly hard. The brunette matches it easily, before dark eyes widen upon taking in her son's ripped sweater and grazed hands.

"Sheriff, why is my son bleeding!?"

"I'm fine! I just-"

"I didn't ask _you_ , Henry."

"It's nothing, we just... We were climbing a tree and a branch broke... He's fine."

"Oh really? Bloodied and filthy is _'fine'_ in your book?"

"It's just a scrape!"

"And I suppose that's what you'll argue with the doctors if it becomes infected?"

"Oh for god's sake, Regina..."

Emma blows her hair back irritably and the brunette glimpses the thin laceration just above her temple. Running her eyes briskly over the Sheriff, the Mayor takes in her bloodied knees and palms and sighs. Turning her attention down to her son she beckons him sternly.

"Come on, Henry, it's time to go home."

He nods defeatedly, and collects his backpack before trudging off behind the brunette. Emma collects her own belongings and waits hesitantly, not wishing to endure an awkward trek back to the main path in the wake of the Mayor.

Regina looks back as she reaches the edge of the small clearing and studies the blonde who nibbles thoughtfully on her bottom lip; attention cast absently-mindedly downwards. Sighing, the brunette raises her voice and addresses the younger woman primly.

"Next time, Miss Swan, I expect him back unharmed and before dark. Goodnight."

Emma glances quickly back at the Mayor, holding her gaze momentarily.

_Next time?_

"Uh, yeah, sorry... Ummm... Night... Night, Henry!"

* * *

"Coming!"

Mary Margaret hurries over to the door; hobbling a little as she struggles to straighten out a wrinkle in her tights. She sighs distractedly, wondering who would be knocking at this time in the evening, and, of all nights, when she has somewhere to be. She briefly considers shouting for Emma to come down and play hostess, but decides that by the time she manages to coax the blonde out of her room, whoever stands on the other side of their front door may have died of old age.

_Introverted, sure, but a better description would just be bone idle..._

Running a hand through her dark hair distractedly, she pulls open the front door to apologise to her visitor that they may need to come back at a more suitable time. Unless it happens to be Ruby, who seems to be one of the few people the blonde _doesn't_ mind traipsing down to see.

It's not.

"... Madame Mayor...?"

"Good evening, Miss Blanchard, were you going somewhere?"

Dark eyes roam distastefully over the schoolteacher's pastel toned outfit and shiny pink lips.

"I was, actually... Sorry, did you... What do you..."

"It matters not, I was actually hoping to speak to Miss Swan. Is she around?"

"Uh, she's in her room, I can call her-"

"-No need."

The schoolteacher steps back automatically as the brunette strides authoritatively into the living room and makes her way briskly to the wrought iron stairs she knows lead to Emma's bedroom. Eying the older woman warily, Mary Margaret watches her ascend the black steps with sharp taps of her heels and sighs, shrugging on her coat and making her way out of the apartment.

 _Well, I'm sure_ that _will go down well._


	21. Chapter 21

Regina stands in the doorway of the blonde's bedroom, finding she is completely unsurprised by everything presented in the scene before her. Emma's parka is strewn across the floor like a fur-cuffed corpse, falling over and under her muddy boots. The small room smells of peaty whisky, mingled with the much sweeter smell of, well, the Sheriff herself. Her gun sits forgotten on a small bedside table, and the woman in question lies propped up in bed- of course still wearing her filthy, ruined clothes from the woods- with her eyes shut.

The Mayor knows better than presume her to be asleep as the music blaring from Emma's headphones is loud enough for her to be able to hear it relatively clearly from where she stands at the threshold. She briefly contemplates simply launching herself at the blonde to delight in the shock sure to cross the younger woman's face, but decides this is too childish an act. In fact, she imagines it to be something the Sheriff would pride herself on doing.

Instead she flicks the light switch on and off a few times; the erratic light bleeding through the thin skin of her lids causing the blonde's eyes to flutter open instantly. Upon seeing who her unexpected guest is, her mouth, too, falls open in surprise. She pulls the headphones away and switches off her mp3.

"Good evening, Miss Swan."

"Regina... What are you doing here?"

_Good question._

"Well, dear, as you ask; I have just spent the best part of the evening scrubbing at my son's jeans- which are _ruined_ , by the way- before battling him into a hot bath and cleaning up the numerous cuts and scrapes-"

"-Look, like I said, it was an accident! You don't think I feel bad the kid fell!? You think you can just come round here and-"

Regina holds up a hand to silence the blonde; her expression easily mistakable for disdain, but there is an undertone of sweetness to be found in the words which follow so strange, the younger woman seems not to know how to respond.

"-which were simply _crawling_ with dirt. Now, I haven't come here to do your laundry, Miss Swan, nor do I plan on running you a bath, but I had a feeling that you would lack the good sense to see to your injuries, and as this town has just the one Sheriff- who has so far failed to secure herself a Deputy- it would seem prudent she take slightly better care of herself."

Emma opens and closes her mouth, searching for an answer (or at the very least; a sensical retort). She glances down at her knees distractedly, begrudging their dirt-bloodied state. She wishes she'd changed into sweatpants upon returning home; thus saving herself this awkwardness, but as it is, she doesn't have much in the way of argument towards the Mayor.

Regina takes the blonde's silence as invitation and struts authoritatively into her room to perch delicately on the edge of the bed.

Green eyes search her face, and the brunette follows suit before pulling a small bundle from her handbag that the Sheriff recognizes, after a moment's scrutiny, to be a first aid kit. Emma raises an eyebrow, the left corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. Her mirth is quickly dampened when dark coals flicker up to meet her gaze and the Mayor begins to unwrap the items she imagines she will need.

"If you would take your jeans off, dear"

"You can't be serious!"

Regina glances back up at the blonde and takes in the indignant blush that creeps across her cheeks. She licks her bottom lip curiously, not sure whether it is her request that the Sheriff should undress, or simply the fact that she has caught the younger woman idly ignoring her injuries that sparks Emma's incredulous response. Deciding it doesn't really matter, she simply waits; knowing that her ominous presence so close to the blonde will demand her eventual compliance.

"Well, how else would you propose we do this?"

"I don't propose _we_ do anything! I'm a grown woman and perfectly capable of looking after myself!"

"The state of your knees would suggest otherwise."

"It's just a few grazes, Regina!... I'm fine."

This last part is quieter, kinder, and she shrugs awkwardly at the darker woman. The Mayor sighs, rolling her eyes in a way similar to that in which she rolls them at Henry when he is being particularly stubborn.

"I'm sure you are, dear, but I doubt obstinacy alone will immunize you against infection... Now... Please..."

She gestures with a well-manicured hand towards the Sheriff's dirty jeans, and after a moment's irritable hesitation, Emma gets up from the bed with a sigh and pulls her sweatshirt up just enough to work her fingers deftly at her belt buckle.

The jeans are baggy- not reminiscent of the blonde's usual style- and their removal requires none of the salacious hip wiggling the Mayor has grown accustomed to. Regina muses upon this as the Sheriff kicks the ruined denim from her feet. She supposes it sets the tone for their current situation; there is nothing sexual in the way Emma presents herself today, and the brunette imagines there are still some ill feelings from the night before. Glancing briefly about the room, she spots the ridiculously high heels the younger woman had stalked out on in the early hours of the morning- their soles visibly caked with mud- and she sighs once again as the bedsprings groan with the blonde's weight as she clambers back into place on top of her uncharacteristically feminine bedding.

 _It's a good thing this little scene is so devoid of sexual tension as there is no way_ anything _is about to transpire on top of that sickeningly girlish repeat pattern of snowdrops; the paisley print practically screams 'Mary Margaret'._

In spite of such thoughts, Regina allows her gaze to travel the pale expanse of the Sheriff's bare legs; throwing an appreciative glance towards simple, black bikini briefs that contrast prettily with the younger woman's fair skin. She runs her hand up the slender shin that rests closest to her, but finishes the gesture by simply propping Emma's leg up at a more accessible angle and assessing the damage to her knee.

"God, woman, what the hell did you _do_?"

She frowns at the bloodied, broken flesh; tearing open an antiseptic wipe neatly with her teeth. Emma peers down at her injuries curiously, prodding at one of the uglier looking cuts with her finger.

"Yes, poking at it with your dirty fingers, that's _sure_ to help!"

Regina taps the blonde's hands away fussily and begins to rub at the damaged skin with the wipe, applying gentle pressure and swiping methodically. The Sheriff lets out a quiet hiss through gritted teeth as the bite of the alcohol stings cruelly, but keeps her leg obediently in position.

"I don't know, I think I probably dragged my legs across a branch or something as we fell."

"It looks like it. You've done quite an impressive job here; you'll be lucky if you don't end up with a scar or two... Henry said you were building a tree house?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you a little _old_ to be climbing around like a lunatic?"

"I wasn't building it for _me_..."

Emma mutters sourly at the brunette, wondering just how much truth lies within this statement.

She points to a small trashcan at the end of the bed as the wipe the Mayor uses to clean her knee has become orange with blood and dirt-stained. Regina leans over to discard the soiled wipe- her breath breezing momentarily against the wet flesh at the blonde's knee, turning the alcoholic residue instantly cold- and glimpses the numerous cans and bottles that take residence in the black trashcan. She raises an eyebrow at the Sheriff who glares back at her challengingly.

Deciding against commenting on the can's contents- although some really quite exemplary quips about distilleries and recycling plants spring to mind- the brunette opts instead to simply offer the younger woman a knowing smirk before spraying her knee with an aerosol of Savlon.

" _Shit_!"

Emma jerks her leg back roughly; accidentally kicking the Mayor's forearm with her foot. Regina growls and grabs the offending limb at the ankle and pulls it firmly back into place, wiping away the stray yellow marks that now streak the blonde's shin.

" _Really_ , dear, even Henry doesn't fuss this much."

"I'm not _fussing_! And _Henry_ probably knows to expect that shit to be fucking _freezing_! What even is it?!"

The Mayor sighs dramatically and hands the younger woman the canister to clue herself up, gently placing a white patch of gauze over her knee and sticking it neatly in place with some white medi-tape. She covers the patch with a larger waterproof plaster, before pulling up Emma's other leg to repeat the process.

When she gets to the point where she needs to use the Savlon spray once again, the Mayor plucks it from slender fingers and looks up pointedly at the blonde.

"I'm going to spray this now."

Her tone is suitably patronizing, and Emma throws her a withering look causing the brunette to smirk. She coats the younger woman's knee with a fine spray of yellowing antiseptic and patches her up quickly.

"Very fetching."

She expects a grumbled retort as the blonde really does look quite sorry for herself with her bandaged knees, but the Sheriff offers her a coy wink and a small smile. Regina rolls her eyes with an irritation she doesn't actually feel before kneeling up on the bed and taking the younger woman's chin in her hand. She is acutely aware of the way Emma tenses up at this new, more intimate contact, and glances briefly into green eyes. She can't quite read the expression that lingers behind sooty lashes, but she recognizes the wary pull to the Sheriff's mouth easily and gently uses her fingers to coax the blonde's head to the side; making her intent clear.

"This is pretty nasty cut, Sheriff."

"It doesn't really hurt."

"It doesn't have to, but I don't like the way it disappears off into your hair... Make sure you wash it tonight."

She runs her finger gently over the reddened flesh surrounding the laceration, her heart beating a little faster then usual as she leans into the younger woman's personal space.

"I will..."

Emma's eyes flicker up to study the Mayor as the brunette remains raised above her; dark eyes glittering tantalizingly and plump bottom lip caught between perfect white teeth. She smiles awkwardly and waits for the older woman to pull back; feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Regina lets her gaze linger on the blonde's lips for a moment longer, before closing her eyes and closing the distance. She makes a disagreeing noise in her throat when slim fingers find her shoulders and gently push her away. Opening her eyes, she regards the Sheriff in confusion; trying to keep the wounded feeling gnawing at her gut from crossing her features.

_But this was supposed to make everything okay again. Why can't you see that I'm trying to rectify whatever went wrong last night..._

"Emma..."

The younger woman observes the hurt flicker in the Mayor's eyes and smiles apologetically.

"It's not... I'm not... Thank you, for all of this, but... I don't... I have a cold is all"

As if on cue, she coughs chestily, her voice hoarse when she continues.

"This town has just the one Mayor- who fails to allow anyone to offer her guidance- it would seem prudent she didn't go getting herself sick..."

Sharp teeth flash in a lopsided grin and the brunette bites back her own responding smirk, opting instead to flick her hair back airily before she begins fussing over the first aid items sprawled out on Emma's hideous bedspread.

"Yes, well, whose fault is _that_ , Miss Swan, that you should find yourself suffering with a cold?"

"I imagine you're hinting at it being mine?"

"Hmm, well, it's hardly surprising, what with you storming-... Leaving last night without so much as a jacket. Wearing those ridiculous heels to walk all the way back home in... You're lucky a cold is _all_ you got! Honestly, dear, what if you had been _approached_ by someone, dressed like that?"

Emma fights down the contrary surge of anger that floods quickly through her blood, recognising the concern hidden within the disdain dripping from the Mayor's silky tone.

"Unfortunately, I was. Dr Whale is _not_ a man who takes the word 'no' without a great deal of force."

Dark eyes flicker dangerously, the brunette's voice hard with ice.

"Dr Whale approached you?"

"He requested I join him for drinks."

"I see... And did you?"

The blonde stares up at the Mayor incredulously, before rolling her eyes and letting the sarcasm flow hotly from her lips.

"Oh yeah, _sure_ , a man I hardly know came bothering me in the street, and I just couldn't resist the urge to let him take me home and liquor me up before bending me over his couch and fucking me like I was-"

She catches the steel in Regina's eyes and the murderous snarl playing across scarlet lips and throws her hands up in irritable defeat.

"Of _course_ I didn't join him for fucking drinks, Regina!"

She sighs moodily at she watches the hardness in the older woman's face lessen slightly. Cocking her head to the side she regards the brunette curiously, running a long strand of hair silkily through her fingers.

"Why... Would you be jealous?"

Regina splutters before glaring at the Sheriff haughtily, sniffing in her distaste.

"Miss Swan, of the _many_ ways there are to spend an evening; watching you pound back shots while running your filthy mouth is _not_ one I deem desirable... I merely think it's inappropriate of Dr Whale to be harassing you in the street."

"Uhuh..."

Rolling her eyes, the Mayor pushes herself from Emma's bed, feeling oddly deflated at how this evening has ended. Green eyes follow her movements curiously before falling on the crumpled heap of denim that lies abandoned beside the brunette's feet. Looking up inquisitively, the blonde places her hand on the Mayor's arm to stop her from making any further progress in leaving.

"The key... What's it for?"

Regina looks down intently, her eyes roaming over earnest pale features only inches from her own; attention flickering momentarily to the thin scarlet line running back from Emma's temple. She smiles saucily, once more finding the Sheriff's intent gaze.

"Oh, I'll leave that to you to figure out, dear... I imagine once you do, you'll have more use for what it means."

"Wait... What?"

Emma frowns in confusion, sighing when the brunette offers her nothing but a mocking shrug before taking a step back.

Regina picks up her bag to leave; satisfied that there is still a chance of a little fun to be had between them after all, but admittedly a little sour at the way the Sheriff seems momentarily disinterested in playing along. Nodding her farewell, she turns briskly to take her leave before the quiet groan of the blonde's bedsprings has her turning back to the younger woman curiously.

Emma sits perched on the edge of the bed, head cocked thoughtfully to the side, and looking really rather lovely in just her thick gray sweater and underwear.

_Not that she needs to be let in on this fact._

"Regina..."

"Can I help you, Miss Swan?"

"... Are you _sure_ you have no interest in running me a bath?"


	22. Chapter 22

The brunette raises an eyebrow, studying the Sheriff intently from her position in the doorway. Emma eyes her back cooly; fully aware of the way the Mayor's dark eyes flicker favorably over her semi-clad form. She decides she doesn't much care; pushing herself up from the bed with a nonchalant shrug while subsequently offering the older woman a better view of her bare legs. Regina runs her tongue over her bottom lip, admiring the somehow teenage gap between the blonde's slender legs and the simple black cotton to which it leads.

"I suppose I ought to make sure you clean that head wound sufficiently."

Her response is snide and she mimics Emma's shrug as though the notion bears her little interest. This lack of sentiment is easily overlooked, however, as both women know this is just a formality at this point. Emma smiles and pads lightly over to the doorway, gesturing with a sweep of her arm that the Mayor should proceed down the steep iron staircase. Regina complies, wondering if she should call Sydney and let him know that her meeting looks to be taking longer than she'd expected and advising him she will be back later to relieve him of watching Henry. She decides this really isn't her problem and doubts the peculiar ex-reporter has anywhere he needs to be.

"Which way?"

The brunette hesitates as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, casting an inquisitive glance back at the Sheriff who stands a few steps from the bottom of the wrought iron staircase. Emma points to a weatherbeaten door to the left and the older woman walks authoritatively onwards, finding herself in the small, lavender scented bathroom the two younger women share.

A modestly sized claw foot tub centers the room; tarnished gold framing protruding up and around it to allow for a pair of lilac curtains to be pulled shut in a waterproof cocoon. The need for this becomes apparent when the Mayor notes there is no separate shower, but instead just a handheld version attached to the bath. A mismatched hook is welded to one of the gold bars and she supposes that when settled within this cradle, the shower head is at the perfect height to wash one's hair.

A threadbare white mat lays between the bath and a chipped porcelain toilet, leaving the unfinished wood in front of the basin and laundry hamper bare. Upon a rust-speckled shelf adorning the far wall rests an artillery of bath products; neatly separated into two sections. The collection of bottles on the righthand side is primarily pink and purple in hue and is comprised of a great many flowery and fruity concoctions. The smaller selection to the left is either nihilistic in design or strangely ornate and seems to be predominantly honey and vanilla scented, or simply labelled 'odorless'.

Regina needs no clue as to which section belongs to which woman.

Feeling ever so slightly foolish, the brunette makes her way over to the tub and turns the rusty taps to initiate a shuddering stream of hot water. She tests its temperature with the back of her hand in a way she hasn't done since Henry was an infant and deems it to be hot but not scaldingly so. Turning back to the blonde as she waits for the tub to fill, she primps at the invisible creases in her dress pants before fluffing her hair.

Emma stands with her backside rested against the sink and watches as the Mayor goes about fixing her a bath. She hadn't been sure how literally Regina would take her suggestion, and she raises a brow at the way the darker woman tests the water. She watches as the brunette stalks over to the shelf that holds the bath products and salts and feels a twitch at the corner of her lips as the Mayor deliberates over the selection before reaching for a slim bottle of almond scented bubble bath and a bar of vanilla and orange-blossom soap. Both these items are two of her favorites, but she keeps her mouth shut.

Soon, the scent that fills the bathroom is sweet and inviting and a small layer of steam wisps above the luxuriously filled bathtub. Regina turns to the Sheriff questioningly, and the younger woman offers her a small nod.

Emma pulls her sweater up over her head along with the skimpy white tank she wears beneath, and the Mayor muses that no matter what state of play their relationship finds itself in; the blonde's toned stomach and peaked hipbones are a sight she will find eternally enthralling. She simply watches the Sheriff expectantly as the pale woman stands in just her simple cotton bikini briefs and curiously pink bra.

"Shy?"

Emma looks over at her irritably before deftly plucking the remaining fabric from her slender frame; leaving just the shocking white flashes of the plasters at her knees. She raises an eyebrow at the brunette who currently drinks in the finished product and takes a step towards her.

"You aren't joining me?"

Regina spares the modest tub a wary glance and looks back at the blonde with a smirk.

"My dear, I fear you may be overestimating the capacity of the bath somewhat."

The Sheriff shrugs, and again the Mayor is struck by how endearingly boyish the younger woman can be, despite her beautifully lissome frame.

"We can top and tail."

Emma climbs easily into the tub, shivering slightly as the blissfuly hot water turns her pale flesh pink. She lowers herself down into the deep liquid warmth until the lather of bubbles covers her from the chest down.

The Mayor briefly wonders how it can be possible for one to possess such an enticing sternum.

"Plenty of room."

The blonde lifts her leg up out the water pointedly, and not for the first time, Regina marvels at her flexibility. She can in no way entertain the thought of the Sheriff studying dance, but she imagines that if the younger woman were to refine her ways slightly, she would find herself well equipped within the world of gymnastics.

The brunette moves to perch on the edge of the tub, looking down at the Sheriff coolly. Inwardly, she deduces that she prefers the blonde's bare-faced look- _or, just bare look in general_ \- but she's not about to go and tell Emma this. Instead, she plucks a prim, lilac washcloth from its place draped between the taps and dabs its tip repeatedly into the warm water of the bath. She pauses before putting it to use however, deciding that the almond scented body wash is unlikely to possess the medicinal properties she needs for the task. Stalking quickly over to the blonde's bath products once more, she finds an odorless, antiallergenic liquid soap and squirts some onto the damp cloth in her hand. Rubbing it into a thick lather between her thumb and forefinger she returns to her previous position perched on the tub's side.

"This will probably sting a little."

She warns, using her free hand to scoop back the Sheriff's mane of hair- banishing the peculiar urge to braid thick, silken gold- and gently rubs at the thin laceration to the blonde's temple. Her actions cause the injury to begin bleeding once again and Regina finds herself inwardly smug as she notes the prissy purple cloth in her hand is now stained with a swatch of maroon. She also notes the way Emma's hands squeeze the sides of the tub in a death-grip, and she eases up her rubbing until she just dabs softly at the cut.

"Well... At least it's pretty much cleaned up now..."

She breathes quietly, and the Sheriff glances up at her awkwardly, aware that the older woman's reason for staying has now been rendered moot. Her eyes travel the intelligent lines of the Mayor's face and deliberate on the small nick to her upper lip. She has an intense urge to run her tongue across that small imperfection and shakes her head as though to shake it away.

_Beautiful._

Deciding she doesn't really give much of a fuck whether the brunette catches her cold, Emma suddenly pushes herself from the bath and pulls the darker woman into a wet embrace; finding her lips and running her tongue over the scar before demanding access.

"What the hell do you think you're _doing_?! I'm _soaked_!"

Regina steps back from the tub with her hands splayed in disbelief, allowing the blonde to take in the sopping wet fabric at her chest. The Sheriff contemplates this curiously; her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip as she takes in the clear shadow of the brunette's bra beneath her shirt. She raises an eyebrow and smirks impishly

"Well, you're wet now; may as well get in with me."

The darker woman offers her a long-suffering sigh as she plucks at the sodden front of her shirt. Emma waits expectantly, but the Mayor seems momentarily preoccupied with sulking in her bemusement. The blonde relishes the way this causes the brunette to purse her lips- so reminiscent of scarlet rose petals- and her dark eyes to flash angrily. Coming to the realisation that Regina has no _intention_ of sharing a quick soak, Emma clambers swiftly from the bath and presses the darker woman against the sink; her naked form soaking the Mayor's clothes instantly as she wraps her arms around the brunette's neck.

"Really, Sheriff..."

Regina mutters, disgruntled, into the blonde's ear, but her hands find the younger woman's damp waist instinctively, and she searches out her lips with an aggressive need. Running her tongue over Emma's, the Mayor groans as deft fingers slip slyly between her legs; playing maddening patterns over silk and lace.

The blonde moves both hands to the Mayor's pleasantly rounded rear and cups firm flesh momentarily, before lifting her to sit perched up on the lip of the basin and manoeuvring herself to stand between splayed legs. She studies the brunette's fine features for a moment, before moving her attention to the smooth skin of the older woman's throat; letting out a small hiss as the latter's fingernails drag roughly across the bare skin of her back.

Regina moves her hand so that her fingers brush against the blonde's exposed sex, causing the younger woman's breath to hitch. The position allows her knuckles to rub deliciously against her own covered heat and she gives a little moan of approval as she begins to move her hand at a steady pace, returning her lips to Emma's and leaning into the younger woman's touch as the latter begins to undo the small buttons to her shirt.

Once her task of relinquishing Regina from her blouse is complete, the blonde moves her hands to cup perfect breasts; her thumbs playing teasingly over peaked nipples. She grins as the brunette groans against her lips, before letting out her own gasp of pleasure as Regina slips a finger sweetly into her wetness.

Murmuring into the mass of golden curls that fall against her cheek, the Mayor ups the pace of her fingers while her other hand presses softly against the muscle of the blonde's stomach.

"You had me a little worried, Miss Swan; wandering off into the night the way you did, the way you looked... The way you _look_... Bad things can happen to a pretty girl, even in this sleepy town..."

"Did you just admit to being worried about me _and_ call me pretty in the same sentence?"

"Mmm, I hope you appreciated it, Sheriff, because I can promise you such a slip of judgement won't happen again..."

"Just admit it; you like me."

"... Don't ruin this now... Dear..."

She wraps her legs around the Sheriff's waist, speeding up her ministrations until she feels the blonde sag into her; knees buckling with pleasure as she lets out a hoarse moan into the flushed flesh at the brunette's sternum. Regina bucks her hips once, twice, and lets out a similar choked cry as her hands fly into Emma's hair and she pulls the younger woman's lips desperately to hers; their teeth clashing clumsily in the afterglow of pleasure.

As her breathing slows, Regina leaves one last, lingering kiss on the blonde's sex-swollen lips before pushing her away. Emma pulls a towel swiftly around herself, shaking out her long hair of which the bottom two inches hangs wet and limp from dragging in the bath water. Looking up, she smirks as the brunette casts her eyes down to survey the water damage sustained to her clothing. With a coy grin, the Sheriff places her hand on her hip and regards the older woman with mischievous intent.

"Never mind, you'll just have to borrow something."


	23. Chapter 23

Regina mutters irritably as she allows herself to be led back up to the blonde's bedroom; Emma yanking her along by the hand and exuding an almost nauseating level of uncharacteristic glee.

The Mayor doubts things are about to turn out in her favor.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming, dear. Didn't you ever have a doll or anything to dress up?"

"Nope."

The brunette purses her lips momentarily, realizing she hasn't spared the younger woman's upbringing any real thought since their relationship has... Well... Become whatever it is now. She studies the Sheriff's retreating form thoughtfully as the latter bounds up the iron stairs; Emma's light curls bouncing wildly against the fluffy gray towel she clutches to her chest. Before she can conjure up a suitable quip to breeze past what she considers to be an awkward silence, they have reached the Sheriff's bedroom and the blonde turns to face her in a flash of teeth that is all humor and no self-pitying woe; green eyes glittering at her wickedly.

"You're going to be _much_ more fun than a doll."

"... Somehow, I'm having trouble matching your enthusiasm, Miss Swan."

Emma grins and wanders over to a narrow built-in wardrobe on the far side of her bedroom. Regina feels her lip curl disdainfully as she notes that the majority of the closet's contents sits simply shoved into a series of cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly inside.

"Were you planning on leaving any time soon, Sheriff?"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?... No, I just never really got around to unpacking is all."

 _No, somehow I doubt that_ is _all. You don't like getting too comfortable any place, do you, dear? No matter how hard you've been trying to convince me I can't get rid of you, fight or flight is ingrained, and my guess is you're adept at both, but not_ quite _so talented at just settling down and relaxing._

Shaking herself from her contemplation- _God, why must I keep psychoanalyzing the little home wrecker-_ Regina shrugs and perches on the edge of the younger woman's bed, paying no concern to the way her blouse still billows damply open to reveal her rather low-cut bra.

She watches as the blonde rummages around in the top box and reemerges with a pair of skimpy striped panties. Momentarily dreading the Sheriff imagines she herself should don the somehow childish scrap of fabric, the Mayor opens her mouth to argue, but Emma simply steps into the cotton briefs and pulls them on smoothly. Regina has to bite back a smirk at the way the blonde wiggles them on beneath her towel, as if protecting her modesty despite their recent activities in the bathroom.

Sussing the object of the Mayor's amusement, Emma raises an eyebrow and disposes of her towel with a quick flick of her wrist; tossing it to land on her bed. The brunette instinctively reaches for it with a roll of her dark eyes and folds the damp material neatly in half, before draping it over the radiator to her side so as to allow it a chance to actually dry.

The Sheriff turns her back to the Mayor, moving aside the top box and placing it behind her- allowing Regina to lean surreptitiously forward and glimpse a tantalizing concoction of cotton and lace- and begins hunting around in the one beneath. Eventually, she pulls out a light gray sweater; cut short at the arms and waist to be almost fashionable. Pulling it on and shaking out her long hair, she finds a pair of woolen socks that pull up easily over her bandaged knees. Regina blinks, the complete ensemble incredibly, well, _sweet_ , but a little odd. She ponders Emma's curious ensemble momentarily before she remembers the time and guesses the blonde is simply readying herself for bed.

The Mayor is in no such luck.

"Do you want pants or a dress?"

"A _dress_?"

The Mayor expresses doubt within her tone, causing the blonde to cross her arms defensively over her chest as she comes to the conclusion the brunette isn't offering her a hesitant answer but rather questioning the fact she should even own such an item.

"Yes, Regina, a dress."

The older woman smirks; Emma's retort so similar to her own mannerisms it's uncanny. She makes an inquisitive gesture with her hand and the Sheriff roots around until she steps forth with her offering. Regina plucks at the light, white cotton of the younger woman's first option curiously, opting not to bother explaining to the Sheriff that such an item is called a 'summer' dress for a reason, but inwardly resolving to find out what such a feminine garment looks like on the pale woman come April.

The second option Emma holds out is the black dress she had worn the previous evening, and Regina shakes her head immediately. She would sooner make her way home naked than wear that beautiful piece of tailoring; it is Emma's, and Emma's alone.

Curiosity getting the better of her, the Mayor moves from the bed to stand beside the Sheriff as she goes about replacing the dresses onto their hangers. She spies a simple denim skirt crumpled carelessly within the box resting on top of the others, along with various jeans, cargo pants and a pair of denim shorts.

Very _short_ shorts.

She pulls these from the box and holds them up with a salacious smirk spreading across her lips. Emma rolls her eyes and snatches them back; shoving them swiftly back into the closet and burying them beneath a pair of old jeans with a light blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I doubt I could even _pay_ you to go home in those."

"Funny, they look like something in which you'd get paid _plenty_... Ones and fives add up, dear."

The brunette smirks coyly, but she runs a pair of fluttering fingers over the blonde's hip to counteract the bite to her words. Emma huffs and taps the Mayor's hand away irritably, but she continues to hunt through the boxes for something the older woman can wear home. Regina looks on inquisitively, occasionally pulling out an item to study it in more depth before throwing it, disapprovingly, onto the blonde's bed.

"How is it possible for someone to own just one skirt and yet possess twenty-three tank tops?"

"You fucking _counted_?! Well, skirts are hardly the best thing to be wearing on the job, are they?"

"Oh yes, heaven forbid you actually partake in any activity besides procrastinating behind your desk... Although, I suppose given that you seem to spend so much of your time with your feet up, a skirt really _isn't_ all too practical. Perhaps those little shorties would be more... Appropriate?"

"Oh, shut up, _Madame Mayor_ , as much as it pains you, I get the job done... And besides, I already have Ruby around to fulfill the 'flesh-on-display' quota."

"What's that supposed to mean- you 'have her around'?"

Emma turns to the brunette upon sensing the tetchy change in her tone and raises an eyebrow.

"Nothing, just that Ruby's been coming by to help me with paperwork when she has the time."

"...Is that so?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I don't see the big deal? You wanted me to hire a deputy, and she's pretty much helping out for free."

"...Sheriff, I don't deem Miss Lucas to really be deputy material."

The blonde shrugs; her attention back on the clothes in front of her, oblivious to the frown crossing the older woman's brow.

"Since when have you and her been so _friendly,_ anyway?"

"Hmm?"

"You and Ruby... You just don't seem like you'd have a great deal in common."

Pulling the last of the stacked boxes down to make all possible items accessible, and bending to root around in the one just uncovered, Emma looks up at the Mayor curiously before comprehension dawns on her in the form of a knowing grin.

"Well, someone walking in on you half naked can lead to a beautiful friendship _._ "

"... I see... And was there any particular _reason_ for you to be in such a state, or is this just something one should know to expect from you, Miss Swan?"

"Oh, quit it. She came by the Station after you locked me in the cell... And anyway... I was wrapped in a blanket, it's not like she _saw_ anything..."

A smirk finds the brunette's lips as things suddenly begin making sense, and she places her hand on the crouched Sheriff's shoulder as she joins her in surveying the bombsight of her wardrobe.

" _Ah_ , so it was Miss _Lucas_ that sprung our little heroine from her cruel prison?"

"It was, and fortunately for me, Ruby knows how to let things _go_!"

Regina flicks at the blonde's pale, freckled skin sharply before placing her hands on her hips.

"I have no idea what you are referring to, Sheriff."

Emma rolls her eyes and lowers herself down so that she sits with her legs splayed childishly on the floor; waving her hand at the boxes hopelessly.

"Just find something, Regina. The pants will probably be a little big for you, but you'll just have to suck it up and deal."

The brunette plucks at the coarse denim distastefully. She can't recall the last time she wore jeans, and she hopes to keep it that way. Similarly, the Sheriff's tops are not at all to her taste; either too big or too small and none of them blessed with the knowledge of what an iron might be. Sighing, she gives one last glance towards the scarce items hung up in the blonde's closet and almost turns away before a flash of color catches her eye.

"Pretty?"

She pulls the dress carefully from its hanger; holding it up in front of herself and raising an eyebrow at the blonde.

"Oh, I forgot about that one... Yeah, it's ok..."

Her tone and the wrinkle to her nose suggests she thinks otherwise, and the Mayor imagines the fact that the garment she holds up is a girlish hot pink to be partially responsible for Emma's disdain.

"I have to say, not really your style, Sheriff?"

"It was for work."

"... You wore this to work?"

"Yes. And before you go making any more hooker comments, I'm referring to bale-bonds work."

"So, basically, you would _dress up_ like a woman of the night but get paid a higher rate for it?"

"Look, Regina, you can go home soggy and topless for all I care."

The brunette chuckles sordidly as the younger woman grumbles back at her and lays the dress out on the blonde's bed. She smooths out the fabric appreciatively, marveling at how the hue of the soft material is both sultry and yet misleadingly demure. Pulling at the open wings of her blouse, she shucks it lightly from her svelte form and folds it to lie beside the dress. She catches Emma watching her intently and feels a blush creep across her chest; not body-shy in the slightest, but unaccustomed to being observed changing.

Unclasping her dress pants and allowing them to fall lightly to the floor, she steps out of them gracefully and lays them on top of her blouse. She is begrudgingly aware of the fact that she is purposefully sucking in her stomach and clenching her ass cheeks, but she supposes that if she _is_ going to be watched as she goes about undressing, she may as well put on a show the younger woman will really enjoy. Primping at her underwear unnecessarily, she takes a step towards the blonde; relishing in the way green eyes roam over her exposed flesh shamelessly.

"Do you have any stockings I can borrow?"

"Uh, probably..."

Emma delves into her lingerie box and the Mayor smirks at the way the blonde's eyes flicker up restlessly, as though unwilling to forgo the pleasure of drinking in her soft curves. Eventually, the Sheriff straightens up, holding out a pair of limp, nylon stockings. Regina holds up the scant black hosiery doubtfully; the lace embellishing the tops and the visible seam gracing the backs of them making the silky numbers in her hand impossible to imagine within any other scenario but sex.

"I meant more like... Never mind."

She hands them back to the blonde, deciding that not only is she going to make sure she forces Emma into the pretty white summer dress hidden within the depths of her wardrobe, but that she will find out just how sheer those black stocking are when stretched over alabaster flesh.

She pulls the dress on easily over her head, gliding the zipper up at her side, before pulling the soft fabric primly into place. Fussing with her hair, she stalks over to the mirror that hangs adjacent to the blonde's bed and checks herself out. She catches the Sheriff's eyes as she goes, offering her a salacious smile before regarding herself in the mirror.

Emma raises a brow as she takes in the delectable image the Mayor presents. The flushed coral hue of the dress compliments the brunette's skin tone beautifully; setting off her olive complexion. Slender limbs are encased mesmerizingly in heavy silk, and the cut of the dress skims perfectly over smooth thighs and full breasts.

_Well, fuck me. I guess that dress isn't so bad after all..._

"D-do... Uh, do you need to borrow a jacket?"

The Sheriff cringes as she is forced to clear her throat mid sentence. She tells herself it's the cold, but knows well enough otherwise. Regina turns to her and offers a sultry smirk, sooty eyelashes fluttering prettily.

"So long as it isn't leather, dear."

Emma sighs exasperatedly but pulls a small, cropped jacket from her closet.

"I thought I said no leather?"

But the Mayor pulls the little black jacket on even as these words fall from her lips. She hasn't seen the blonde wear it before, and almost informs the younger woman of her mistake; the soft leather plush to the touch and the cut undeniably flattering. Instead she simply pulls at the collar to straighten it out and waits patiently as the blonde's gaze rests favorably on her.

"So? Do I pull off sarcastic, grouchy delinquent as well as you do?"

Emma rolls her eyes but takes a step towards the brunette as she continues her observation of the darker woman's tempting form.

"No... But then I've had years of practice."


	24. Chapter 24

The brunette walks gracefully up the little path leading to the Sheriff's station; the bag in her hand containing Emma's dress and jacket neatly laundered and folded. Her excuse for being here is to bring back the items lent to her.

She tells herself that in no way is she simply making a social visit.

Her inward battle is rendered moot when, upon reaching the end of the rather dingy corridor leading to the blonde's office, it becomes apparent the younger woman has company. Listening intently from her position hidden just beyond the threshold, she recognizes the second voice murmuring melodically to belong to Mary Margaret.

She rolls her eyes as the general theme of their inane conversation grows clear; the schoolteacher is distraught over the current train-wreck that is the relationship between herself and David Nolan, whilst the blonde offers a kind- yet somewhat disinterested- word every now and then to break up the insipid rambling.

Deciding that Mary Margaret's hopeless romantic whining can wait, Regina stalks smartly into the small office, standing authoritatively in the doorway and returning Emma's surprised frown with her best 'lady of the public' smile.

"Madame Mayor?"

"Sheriff, you may want this."

She holds up the small bag of Emma's clothes, ignoring the inquisitive glance procured from Mary Margaret, and places it neatly by the door.

"Uh, thanks...?"

"Pleasure. Oh, and Miss Swan, I have some matters which need to be discussed. If you could come by my office in a short while?"

"Can't, sorry. I have plans for lunch... I can come by after?"

"Miss Swan, when you decided you fancied yourself in the position of Sheriff, did you believe you would merely be playing dress-up? Or did you perhaps imagine that a small amount of actual _work_ would be required? Whatever your lunch plans are; cancel them. Twelve o' clock. My office."

With that, the brunette turns swiftly to take her leave. As she starts down the hallway she overhears the indignant cry of disbelief uttered by the normally mild-mannered schoolteacher and scowls darkly.

"That was so _rude_! Why can't that awful woman ever just be civil?!"

Regina waits for the blonde's resentful words of agreement, but the Sheriff merely mutters quietly. The words however, are still discernible by the brunette's sharp ear.

"It's fine, I'll just call Ruby and rearrange. Forget it."

 _Why does the irksome woman even_ need _to have lunch with that promiscuous little harlot? By the sounds of things they've been seeing more than enough of each other anyway..._

As she gets back into her car, Regina sighs and lets her anger abate. She isn't even entirely sure what spurned it on in the first place. A small voice at the back of her mind suggests her irritability may have something to do with the fact that she'd come breezing into the Sheriff's station in the hopes- _really? hopes?_ \- of visiting the blonde; an act which, while performed on an almost daily basis, has never been something she has looked forward too before. She hadn't wanted to admit, even to herself, that she had been seeking Emma out for amiable entertainment, so finding herself standing awkwardly in the doorway when she is usually- hell, is _always-_ the one with the upper hand, had just... Well...

She sighs, striving to pull herself from her dangerous self-analysis, and perfects her lipstick in the rear-view mirror before cruising slowly back to her office.

 _Could that really have been considered rude? I just want the woman to do her damn_ job _._

Letting herself in to her grand office, she picks up an apple from the large bowl that rests on the table and weighs it thoughtfully in her hand. She catches sight of her reflection in one of the expensive mirrors that line the hearth and scowls when she glimpses the unease written across her fine features. She is angry with herself for allowing a simple ten second altercation to affect her in such a way. She is angry with Emma for making her ponder on something which she would have previously not have given a second thought.

" _Why... are you jealous?"_

_Jealous of Ruby. Jealous of Doctor Whale. Jealous of Henry. Jealous of even god damned Mary Margaret whom the blonde allows in with no hesitation._

_So what?! Your interest lies in fucking her, not befriending her._

"Stop it!"

Regina glares at herself in the mirror warningly, refusing to allow herself to wrestle with these idiotic thoughts for another second. She is the Mayor. The irritating young woman, with her leather jackets and bad attitude, is the Sheriff, and as such is in the position to be expected to do what the Mayor damn well wishes of her.

_Professionally, of course._

Smirking at the images conjured in contrast to this last thought, the Mayor takes a seat gracefully at her desk; pulling a small knife from the top drawer and skinning the peel from her Honeycrisp apple in neat, concentric circles. She glances at the clock that hangs on the wall above her before returning to her task.

Eleven twenty.

* * *

Emma shoves her hands moodily into the tight pockets of her jeans, traipsing from her bug- the engine's warning light coming on halfway through her short journey being the cherry on top of this already shitty day- and making her way to the Mayor's office. She knocks hesitantly at the obnoxiously large door and half hopes to be offered no reply.

No such luck.

"Yes?"

Pushing the heavy oak open, Emma lets herself in, waiting awkwardly in the doorway as she holds the brunette's dark gaze.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Did you get your things okay, Miss Swan?"

"Yes. They're in my car... What do you want?"

"Come. Sit down, dear."

She does as she's told, walking stiffly over to the grand desk and taking a seat opposite the Mayor. She looks around for a hint as to what this is going to be about, but is surprised to find that no documentation or papers lie atop the older woman's desk. Raising a brow in question, she regards Regina warily.

"I'm sorry I am forcing you to skip your lunch date, Sheriff..."

"No you're not."

Emma leans back in the chair, arms folded across her chest. To her surprise, the brunette lets out a low chuckle, nodding her head as though she finds Emma's retort to be not just amusing but very much true. A silence falls between them in the wake of this small show of mirth and they sit facing each other- the blonde with a confused glower and the brunette with a small smirk at her pleasant lips- with tension quickly rising.

"So? Why am I here? Or did you just not want me going through the day without my dose of goading?"

Regina's smirk widens into an oddly charming smile, but she remains- for the moment- silent. Steeping her fingers beneath her chin, she regards the increasingly frustrated Sheriff thoughtfully until she gages the latter is a mere moment away from snapping.

"Miss Swan, I am a woman who likes the finer things in life."

"No shit."

The Mayor purses her lips, but continues on as though the Sheriff's comment has gone unheard, gesturing at the grandeur of the room in which they currently sit with a gracefull sweep of her arm.

"I like to be surrounded by expensive things. Nice things... Pretty things... I find it gives me great pleasure. Do you know what I _don't_ like, though? What I truly detest?"

_Me?_

Emma keeps her mouth shut; interested to see where this obscure little monologue is going as she deduces the Mayor's question to be rhetorical.

"What I _don't_ like, Miss Swan, is sharing those nice things with others. Do you understand me so far?"

"Uh, I guess?"

"Because, you see, when one finds themselves in the possession of something really, truly... Pretty... The thought of anyone else playing with it with their dirty, sticky fingers... Well... It just doesn't do, dear."

Regina raises an eyebrow at the blonde, conveying she wishes to know whether her message has been received. Emma seems, for the moment, at a loss for words, which the Mayor takes advantage of as she rises slowly from her chair and stalks dominantly around the large table to stand beside her chair. Playing her hand sensually through the blonde's thick curls, the older woman leans down and places a hard kiss on confused-parted lips, before stepping her leg agily over the Sheriff's thighs and straddling her lap possessively.

Emma struggles to comprehend exactly what seems to be happening- to take in the meaning of the Mayor's curious words- as the brunette brushes full lips passionately against her own.

"Find yourself in _possession_ of something?"

She frowns as Regina begins undoing the buttons to the denim shirt she wears; head reeling with the delectable scent of the Mayor's perfume, juxtaposed with the words uttered from scarlet lips suggesting the darker woman feels some sort of ownership.

"Regina, you know you can't... You don't 'posses' me... Don't 'own' me..."

The brunette pulls roughly at long hair, eliciting a groan from the younger woman beneath her and biting playfully at pale expanse of her throat.

"Don't I?"

"...No..."

Regina grins into flushed flesh as the blonde's lips say no, but her rapid breathing suggests otherwise, and she pulls the Sheriff's mouth greedily back to hers as she smooths unruly curls into submission.

"I don't need to _own_ something to despise witnessing others playing with it..."

"Are you...Are you jealous?"

None of the cocky sarcasm this time, just clouded confusion in blown green eyes as the Sheriff pulls back to search the brunette's face with something close to bewilderment. Regina regards the younger woman's flushed cheeks, parted lips and wide eyes with a smirk.

"...What if I am?"

She asks, and Emma frowns; her expression strangely child-like in her confusion, and Regina represses the urge to chuckle.

"Well... I... I don't really know how-"

"-Shh..."

Warm lips against hers again and the blonde struggles to concentrate. Somewhere at the back of her mind, her logic argues that she should stop this. Think about this. That this is just as likely to be a form of manipulation as it is the truth. She reprimands that pensive part with the fact that it doesn't really matter.

At the end of the day, there's no real way this won't end up with her getting screwed.

Figuratively.

Literally.

"Regina, I-"

"-Go get your dress out of the car and come back here. Now."


	25. Chapter 25

The disorientation caused by the Mayor's words has the blonde complying with her demand as if on autopilot. It is only when she stands beside her car, pink dress in hand, that she stops a moment and allows herself to think.

She is pissed at the brunette's phrasing; that the darker woman should think she _owns_ her in any way. She also knows Regina well enough by now to suspect such a term is meant more to suit the Mayor's own psychology than to be expressed as a _fact_. She ponders briefly whether the Mayor's intent and interests should be conceived as flattering or offensively dominant and comes up with nothing save for the beginnings of a pounding headache.

Leaning her forehead against the side of the car in a way that she supposes must look quite comical, she relishes the feeling of the cool metal beneath her skin and tries to calm down. To chill out. A part of her wants to get in the car and drive off. To drive pointedly to the Diner and find Ruby, and have a long indulgent lunch with the young brunette. If she's lucky, Regina may even come out to find her and play witness.

_It's a sad day when your best idea of a 'comeback' is to go out and eat lunch..._

True. But she imagines that the Mayor would view the act as exquisitely offensive.

Despite this fleeting notion, she fumbles her keys back into her pocket. Had this been a week ago, and their sordid game still at its height, she would probably be in her car right now, ordering an extra large milkshake over the phone. This is _now_ though, and she can't bear the thought of starting up _that_ particular game of cat and mouse again.

Cat and cat.

"Miaow."

_Oh great, talking to yourself. As a cat. This relationship is really putting you in a great place, Swan._

She sighs and pulls her head from the cool surface of the car. She studies the dress she holds in her hand with an air of disgust and wonders why in the hell she's playing along with the Mayor's wishes. The woman is quite clearly a sociopath.

_It would be no fun if she wasn't._

_Oh god, what crazed breed of masochism is this?_

Her fists clench angrily, but her mind reels with the image of herself and Henry halfway up that treacherous tree; giddy, laughing. She thinks of the way the brunette had shown up unannounced hours later, sure, full of spiteful comments, but underneath all that, simply to make sure she was okay.

She thinks of Ruby carefully applying pretty... Pretty... Makeup, and of standing to view herself in the mirror, thinking that this time- _this_ time- she would win one.

She thinks back on the Mayor- in not so many words- calling her a whore.

 _Her_ whore.

Glaring up at the grand building in front of her she sighs in distaste before turning her scowl back down to the dress in her hand.

"Fuck it."

She marches back up the stone steps to the Mayor's office.

After all; with lunch skipped, she may as well demand her dessert.

* * *

Regina studies the younger woman curiously. Emma's jaw is set and her expression- while hard to read- is definitely not one of ease.

"Come here, dear."

She beckons, slowly pulling something from her desk drawer which she keeps hidden beneath the ledge of the table.

She had suffered a moment of doubt when the Sheriff had failed to return after the first few minutes; worried the younger woman had tired of their shared emotional roller-coaster. She would have been hard put to be _surprised_ should that have been the case. Emma is stubborn, but she can also be cold. Not in the same way as the Mayor herself; not in a spiteful, malicious way. No, she can be cold in a way where she shuts down, and tunes out.

_Constructs a ten foot wall around herself and is responsive only in ice-ridden monosyllables._

Surveying the Sheriff now, she imagines it was a close call, but Emma pauses for only a moment before trudging slowly over.

Regina imagines the younger woman trudges in such a way simply to irk her.

_Play nice now, dear._

Emma raises an eyebrow in question when she stands before the Mayor; taking a wary step back when the brunette raises her hands and she spies they are no longer empty.

"Hold still."

The blonde opens her mouth to object, but curiosity gets the better of her and she remains where she is; studying the older woman intensely until the soft silk of the scarf the brunette holds is placed gently over her eyes.

"Can you see?"

"...No."

Regina makes a small noise of approval and moves behind the blonde to tie the scarf securely in place; careful not to insnare her messy curls.

"There will be no pain, Miss Swan, and no danger to yourself."

Emma's breath hitches audibly and the Mayor ponders with cruel amusement that the peculiar tastes of the blonde may find the lack of teeth and a little heavy handedness to be a negative thing. She smirks. This is none of her concern. It serves her current intent no purpose.

Taking the dress from the Sheriff's obedient fingers, she places it carefully upon the desk to her side. She lets her eyes wander over the younger woman's attire with a small curl at her lip, noting the way the buttons of Emma's shirt remain half undone to expose the predictable flash of a white tank top beneath. She wonders if the Sheriff suffers from some peculiar strain of OCD when it comes to double-layering. Smirking, she finishes what she'd started; unbuttoning the shirt to hang loosely about the blonde's slender frame as she bites back a chuckle due to the way Emma jumps at her touch.

"Only me, dear."

"And that's supposed to help me relax?"

Regina laughs, brushing at the blonde's lips and pulling away quickly when they part obediently.

"Bitch."

The Mayor pouts and lands a hard slap across the Sheriff's backside, earning her a surprised little hiss before Emma breaks into a grin.

"I thought you said no pain?"

"Shut up, you love it."

Regina's eyes darken as the blonde let's out a low, affirmative laugh. Stalking around the younger woman slowly, she ponders briefly where to start.

_Top or Bottom._

Deciding to mix it up, she lunges suddenly forwards and rips the opened shirt quickly from the unsuspecting Sheriff's body; disposing of it carelessly on the floor. The room is not cold in the slightest, but the blonde's arms break out in goosebumps, causing the Mayor to lick her lips eagerly.

Acting stealthily once more, she moves her hands to the younger woman's waist- delighting in the way the Sheriff reflexively sucks in her stomach- and loosens the blonde's belt with a few hearty tugs. She runs her thumb swiftly down the zipper seam of Emma's jeans- earning herself another quiet gasp- before guiding her fingers back up along this path slowly and firmly to rest at the small button at the top. Fiddling this open, she pulls the zipper down slowly before leaning forwards and blowing gently across the smooth skin at the blonde's collarbone.

Tilting her head to come level with the Sheriff's lips, the brunette disregards her earlier promise and moves slowly forward to catch the younger woman's bottom lip between her teeth. With her fingers hooked within the loops of Emma's jeans, she bites down- softly at first, and then with a little more force- and parts the blonde's jeans to expose a familiar V of lacy material. Pulling Emma towards her, she uses her strength to grind the exposed fabric against herself as she tastes the telling metallic tang of the Sheriff's blood salt her lips.

Stepping back and admiring her handy-work, she finds she suddenly understands everything that has happened since the day of the storm. How this all came to be.

Because _this_ is what was on offer.

Emma licks at her lip experimentally, pink tongue flashing against scarlet beneath the purple silk of the scarf.

The Mayor holds back for a second, simply watching and waiting; wanting to catch the blonde once more by surprise. When she tires of simply observing the Sheriff quiver with anticipation, she lunges forwards again and finishes the job; ripping the younger woman's jeans roughly down her legs. She quickly unties her boots and commands the Sheriff take them off. Emma does as she's told, stumbling a little as her jeans pool about her knees and her balance is compromised by the scarf. Regina offers no guidance or support, but allows herself a small, appreciative smile when the blonde manages her task with no help. Taking the younger woman's hand in her own and guiding it to rest at her shoulder, she bends down and uses her free hand to rest against Emma's hip, holding her steady.

"Lift your right leg."

The Mayor tugs the jeans quickly free before demanding the Sheriff do the same with her left.

"Good girl."

Still crouched down low, the brunette leans stealthily forward and blows softly over the thin material covering the blonde's sex. The twitch she observes at the Sheriff's thighs lets her know it was felt.

Toying with the hem of Emma's tank top, the older woman smirks when the blonde automatically begins to raise her arms. With brutal speed, she rips the dampening lace before her violently down and replaces the ruined fabric quickly with her palm, grinding hard against the younger woman's heat.

" _Shit_!"

Emma's exclamation comes half as a yelp and half as a groan, and the Mayor stands swiftly to capture its ending with scarlet lips.

The blonde's hands find her waist blindly and caress her sides through her shirt before sneaking playfully forward to cop a feel of her breasts. Regina moves back quickly, biting back a small laugh as the Sheriff's lips form a kittenish grin.

"Behave yourself!"

Emma sticks her tongue out childishly, yelping when the brunette lunges forward with liquid speed to nip at its tip. Pulling the blonde to her once more, Regina holds her flush as she slowly peels up the flimsy fabric of the Sheriff's top, pinging her bra-straps smartly as she moves over them.

"Hey!"

Grinning, the darker woman disposes of the thin vest and moves her hand to the clasp at the Sheriff's back that holds her final garment in place. Unhooking the teeth of Emma's pale green bra, Regina lets it fall to the floor with a flourish and steps back to take in the full picture the younger woman portrays.

The purple of the scarf covering her eyes compliments the Sheriff's pale skin nicely, and the Mayor admires the way it causes her hair to tumble wildly underneath as if trying to escape. Pressing her lips softly against the blonde's slightly bloody mouth, Regina lets her hands roam teasingly over bare flesh; pulling her fingers completely clear of pale limbs before coming back for a surprise attack, always changing her angle.

"Regina..."

The Sheriff's voice is lower now, hoarse, and from the flush to her skin and the occasional flutter of her stomach muscles, the brunette suspects she may be well and truly aroused by this current little game. Dipping a finger between her legs just to make sure, she chuckles at the younger woman's obvious wetness and raises her hand to Emma's mouth, running her finger pointedly over bruised lips before the blonde takes the hint and licks it clean.

"Very good."

Taking the dress from the table, Regina unzips it carefully before tickling her finger playfully across bare ribs, causing the blonde's arms to lift reflexively a little.

"All the way up."

Emma does as she's told, feeling the soft material of the dress settle around her shoulders and leaning forward slightly to help the brunette get it up over her head. Once accomplished, she lowers her arms tentatively, not quite resting them against her sides as the Mayor pulls the tight fabric into place.

Brushing aside the blonde's long hair and laying it to rest across her shoulder, Regina bites at the pale, exposed skin of her nape before pulling up the zipper slowly. Giving the dress one final brush down and once over, the brunette walks around to face the blonde and takes her hands firmly. Pulling her gently until Emma clues up and allows herself to be led across the room, Regina comes to a pointed halt and turns the blonde slowly with a guiding hand to her waist and shoulder.

The brunette observes the two of them in the room's large, floor length mirror curiously as she stands behind the blindfolded Sheriff; one hand still clasped to the younger woman's waist while the other plays with a strand of silken gold. She studies Emma's reflected image intently; the way the coral hue of the dress offsets her pale skin prettily, and the way her bruised lips remain slightly parted in curiosity as she awaits whatever the Mayor has in store. Gently pulling the silk scarf free from the blonde's eyes, Regina waits while the Sheriff blinks to adjust to the sudden brightness before taking in her reflection in the mirror.

Emma raises an eyebrow; reflected eyes flickering to Regina's curiously, and the brunette offers her a slow smile. Moving so that she stands almost completely hidden behind the blonde, Regina wraps her hand more firmly around the Sheriff's waist, caressing the taut muscle of her stomach through sinful pink and moving her lips to press against the younger woman's throat, murmuring into her hair.

"I am a woman who likes the finer things in life, Miss Swan."

With that, the hand at the Sheriff's waist begins inching lower.

"I like to surround myself with nice things. Pretty things."

Slender fingers skim playfully over the silk that hides the blonde's heat.

"It gives me... Great pleasure..."

Using her spare hand, she quickly shucks up the younger woman's dress so that the other can disappear beneath the soft fabric.

"But what I _don't_ like, Miss Swan, is sharing those pretty... Pretty things..."

Emma's eyes widen as she continues to watch herself in the mirror; Regina's fingers slipping sweetly over her heat as a hand sneaks up to cup her breast and hot lips press maddeningly at her neck.

"Because, you see, when one finds themselves in the possession of something really, truly... Pretty... The thought of anyone else playing with her, with their... Dirty... Sticky... Fingers..."

The Sheriff clamps her eyes shut as the Mayor increases the speed of the ministrations being delivered below the cover of her dress; biting down on her lip until she garners flesh blood.

"...You are mine to play with, Sheriff, whether you like it or not... I am not a woman who will share, so tell me... Who else will you let play with you, the way I do?"

Emma lets out a small cry as teeth bare down hard on her shoulder; willing herself to ignore the brunette, to refuse Regina the pleasure of giving her what she wants. The only problem with that is that she too will be denied what she wants.

 _So, what's the big deal? It's not like there's anyone_ else _in this shitty town you're actually looking to fuck. To play around with. Just tell her what she wants to hear. Tell her you're not about to go off and fuck the next person you talk to. That you have lunch with._

It should be that easy, but the blonde is hard. She despises exposing her belly- her throat- on instinct, and the very fact the Mayor requests her submission- her vulnerability- is reason enough to fight her.

She tells herself this as she moves her hips to get the brunette's fingers to enter her at a better angle.

Regina grins as she watches the blonde's inward battle play across her face in her mirrored image.

"Open your eyes."

Emma shakes her head, so close now that her inner muscles are beginning to flutter tellingly.

" _Listen_ to me. Open your eyes."

Green eyes fly open as the Sheriff falls forward with a cry, legs shaking, and the brunette catches her easily, pulling her limp frame close.

"...No one."

"What was that?"

Regina smirks as she feels the younger woman's heart continue to beat frantically beneath her palm. She regards Emma's reflection carefully; the blonde's eyes once more closed as she murmurs quietly into chestnut locks.

"No one. Just you."

Turning the Sheriff to face her, away from the mirror, the brunette kisses her deeply, hands losing themselves in heavy gold.

"Thank you."


	26. Chapter 26

Limping up the stairs, Gold comes to a stop in front of the second door to the left and raps his knuckles against flaking wood lightly.

"Sheriff Swan..."

He blinks in momentary surprise, before a cruel smile touches his lips. The blonde regards him cooly, pretty sure she can guess what has caught the peculiar little man's attention. She raises a brow as his dark coals continue to roam about her face and attire; taking in the messy bun from which curls escape chaotically- a moderately sized section of hair to her left seemingly forgotten entirely- framing her bare face and drawing attention to the thick rimmed glasses that rest comfortably on her nose. Her hands are hidden within the fleece-lined pocket that adorns the front of the oversized navy hoodie she wears, and her legs are for the most part bare beneath what he eventually deduces to be boxer shorts, much to his amusement.

"Mr Gold... A little early to be making house calls, isn't it?"

"Well, I figured that ten o' clock was a suitable time pop by on a week day... Alas, I seem to have been mistaken. My deepest apologies that I have caught you _quite_ so unprepared to receive company."

The Sheriff rolls her eyes at his silky, patronizing tone and steps aside in a silent bid that he come in. She pads lightly over to the coffee machine in the kitchen, turning to face Gold with her brow raised in question, before collecting two mugs from the drying rack after he offers her a curt nod.

"I suppose such luxuries are the benefit of, ah, 'working' from home?"

" _Not_ that I can see how it's any of your business, but a pipe burst in the Station yesterday afternoon; the floor's flooded. I have my cell set up to take redirected calls, and I was keeping myself perfectly damn busy before _you_ showed up."

She gestures over towards the large dining table where a stack of crumpled paper litters the desk. Gold smirks at her defensive tone and finds himself hungering to goad the blonde just a little more as she pokes her head into the fridge in search for milk.

" _So_ busy, you haven't even had time to _shower_ it would appear?"

She glares at him irritably- green eyes flashing behind glass- and sets his mug down upon the kitchen island with unnecessary force; causing the scalding liquid within to slop messily over the rim.

"Damn it!"

She continues to scowl- as though accusing her guest of the dark spillage staining the pitted wooden surface- while fetching some kitchen towel to mop up the mess.

"Thank you, Sheriff."

The pawnbroker glances curiously down at the blonde's bare leg, just visible from behind the counter- its twin hidden completely- as he notes the ugly grazes spattering the Sheriff's knee.

"Took a fall, did you, Miss Swan?"

He points to the injury with a long-nailed finger as confusion flickers across her face and she glances down, distracted, before shrugging dismissively.

"Henry and I were out in the woods. I scraped my knees."

Gold offers her a simple nod, negating to question her on the thin, red line at her temple.

The blonde suffers from many personality defects, but her merciless strive towards keeping her own business private is one to which he feels he can relate.

_And it would just be cruel to shatter her delusion that she hides things well..._

"Pity."

"I'll live. What do you want?"

"Well it's a little belated, but I've managed to locate those documents you wanted. I'm simply dropping them by."

He holds out a slim folder he had previously clutched unobtrusively to his side which she takes without so much as a second glance; walking over to the piles of paper strewn chaotically over her make-shift desk and placing it carelessly on top.

"I'll look over them when I have a moment."

"No rush, Sheriff...I _do_ hope it's everything you need."

He drains the last of the coffee from his cup, the blonde's eyes widening in surprise at the way her slippery companion swallows the scorching liquid as though unaffected. Placing the mug promptly back on the kitchen island with a dull thunk, he offers Emma a thin-lipped smile and a nod of his head.

"I'll leave you to your work then, Miss Swan. And, if you'll accept some well-meaning advice, I'd keep an eye on those grazes to your knee; perhaps keep them plastered a little longer. Additionally, I'd recommend a little Arnica for that bruise at your throat..."

"My throat...?"

"Another injury from your fall in the woods... I'm sure."

Gold suppresses a grin as the blonde opens her mouth in surprise, a light blush finding her cheeks as he feigns ignorance.

_Interesting. Now who could it be that our delightful little ice queen has allowed in to thaw her heart?... Or, at least, suck on her neck... Really, dearie... Perhaps next time don't allow them to brand you quite so obviously if you remain determined to delude yourself with whatever air of mystery you fathom you possess._

Predictably, the Sheriff counteracts her surprise with stone-cold defense and tosses unruly, escaped curls irritably; crossing her arms over her ridiculously large sweater and regarding him with ill-hidden contempt.

"Yeah... I guess. I'll be sure to do that."

Smiling pleasantly, Gold takes his leave, dark eyes twinkling as the Sheriff shows him gladly to the door.

"Take care of yourself, Miss Swan."

"... I'm sure I'll see you soon."

* * *

"For fuck's sake."

The blonde grumbles as she pushes herself up from the sofa on which she had been strewn- skimming through a mind-numbing complaint sent in by Miss Ginger- and making her way to the door. She briefly entertains the idea of requesting whomever waits on the other side to bear with her for a moment in an attempt to tidy herself up a little, but promptly disregards the notion.

_I will wear my pajamas around my own fucking house if I damn well like._

"Yes?"

Emma pulls the door open aggressively, causing the brunette to take an involuntary step back before her dark eyes take in the image portrayed by the Sheriff and her painted lips form an amused sneer.

"Miss Swan... I hope you didn't go to all this effort just for me..."

Regina chuckles as the blonde lets out an audible sigh, slipping easily past Emma who has already moved aside to allow her into the cosy apartment.

"What can I say; I try... I appear to be unusually popular this morning. If I'd known I was going to be in such high demand I would have worn Calvin Klein's."

She fingers the fraying hem of her gray boxers thoughtfully and Regina offers her a superior sigh before helping herself to a seat at the large dining room table.

"I never knew you were in such demand, dear?"

Emma scowls at the cruel smirk lingering on the brunette's lips, but the Mayor catches the mischievous glint playing behind curious glass easily.

_Hideous... But strangely endearing... Cute._

_Cute?!_

She pushes away such thoughts with abrupt force as Emma perches childishly up on the counter.

"Everyone wants a piece! Can you blame them?"

Dark eyes flash with warning, but when the blonde pouts her lips in an exaggerated display of provocativeness they flicker with ill-hidden amusement.

"Given your current... Outfit?... I somehow doubt that."

"Oh, _really_?"

The Sheriff raises an eyebrow as she parts her legs ever so slightly atop the high surface of the kitchen counter. Her position allows her to look down on the brunette; green eyes glittering over the top of her glasses in a way that is inexplicably sexy. Regina sniffs, brushing a speck of lint from her tantalizingly tight pencil skirt, and offers the blonde a bored shrug as though entirely disinterested by the whole situation.

The events of the previous afternoon play across the minds of both young women; both knowing that neither is innocent of indifference towards the other anymore, but each still clinging on to the familiar pretense.

"So what was it _you_ wanted to see me for, Madame Mayor?

The title drips languidly from the pale lips; sweet and seductive like syrup. The brunette allows a small twitch to the corner of her mouth, studying the Sheriff levelly as the younger woman grins down at her impishly.

"...You even have to ask, _Emma_?"

The Mayor smirks as the blonde blinks in childlike surprise at the use of her given name, coupled with the blatant innuendo overshadowing the question.

"Well, I... I was working, but I mean... We could..."

Regina rolls her eyes as the Sheriff stumbles gracelessly through her response. She is torn between the enjoyment of goading and griping about the way the younger woman conducts herself-Emma's sometimes teenage mannerisms when faced with her lazy ridicule providing easy bait for further games- and the realization that, despite her snarky remarks to the contrary, her eyes continue to roam with appreciative intrigue over the blonde's bedraggled appearance.

"We could _what_ , Sheriff?"

The brunette rises from her seat gracefully and makes her way over to where the Sheriff perches with a slow, seductive sway of her hips. Reaching the kitchen island, she places her hands on the exposed flesh of the blonde's thighs and leans forward, her weight supported easily by pleasant muscle. She hovers with her lips a mere inch from Emma's; her tailored jacket and mercilessly fitted skirt a stark contrast to the blonde's bed ready attire.

"What could we do?"

The Sheriff closes the gap forcefully, slender fingers slipping into chestnut waves as her thumbs brush the smooth skin at the Mayor's temples and her lips crash hotly against the brunette's. Regina smiles into the act, hands sweeping up the blonde's thighs until they rest at skinny hips.

"I'm open to suggestions..."

Emma grins mischievously as she leans back to regard the brunette. Regina licks her bottom lip before catching the scarlet petal between pretty white teeth as she returns the blonde's gaze. Leaning slowly forward once more, she presses her mouth close to the Sheriff's ear and whispers seductively.

"Is that so, dear?... Then I suggest... You strip off those shapeless little shorts and that ridiculous sweater... Strip down to your underwear... Are you even wearing any?-"

Slim fingers creep beneath the elastic of the blonde's boxers teasingly.

"- It would appear not... Naughty girl... Strip down to _nothing_ , then... And then..."

Emma nods impatiently; inwardly beseeching the brunette to continue as she plays her hands distractedly through silken hair.

"And then... And then I suggest you get yourself into the damn shower, and make yourself decent for the day like the rest of us."

"Oh, shut up!"

Emma hisses irritably as she pulls away with a scowl. Regina shrugs with an arrogant toss of her hair, but she pats at the blonde's thigh in a strangely amiable way.

The Sheriff jumps easily from her seat atop the kitchen island while grumbling sourly at the brunette, rolling her eyes for good measure.

"Whatever you say, Your _Majesty_!"

She offers a sarcastically low bow; completely oblivious to the sharp intake of breath her comment illicits from the brunette. Pulling herself back up to regard the slightly taken-aback Mayor, she offers a burlesque sigh before making her way quickly over the bathroom and closing the door.

Regina shakes her head in bemusement, reclaiming her seat at the table. She is a woman completely at home in her own skin, and as such finds no real discomfort at being left to her own devices within the living space of another. She throws casual glances about her, inwardly labelling the various crumbling and unfinished aspects to the interior with distaste.

Dark eyes flicker briefly over the chaotic mess of paperwork to her right and she pauses for a moment as she regards a slim, black file perched atop the countless sheets of paper. She recognizes the file instantly- or rather, she recognizes its owner- having received a fair few over the years herself. Curiosity mounting, she spares a brief glance towards the closed bathroom door before plucking it from the desk and peering at the documents within.

"What...?"

She drops the folder back onto the table; eyes darkening with murderous thunder as her complexion takes on a new, chalk-like pallor. Lips thinning bloodlessly, she remains where she is, her position rigid, listening to the careless drone of the shower as her stomach twists into a hateful knot and her mind threatens to simply break.


	27. Chapter 27

Emma pulls a face at herself in the small bathroom mirror as she brushes her teeth; holding back her hair as she spits white froth into the sink. Rinsing her mouth out with water, she removes her glasses and shuts them away in the mirrored cabinet, replacing them with her contacts. Pulling a brush through her curls with an occasional wince, she shakes out tamed tresses and slings her towel back onto the hook by the door.

The lack of angry voices from the living room allows her to deduce that her housemate has not made her way home for any unknown reason to stumble upon her present guest, and as such, she slips out of the bathroom in a pale flash of exposed flesh; a small smile touching her lips as she pointedly ignores the Mayor and makes her way upstairs, thus missing the stoic thunder playing across the older woman's face.

* * *

"Oh, are you still here?"

The blonde inquires teasingly, head cocked to the side as she waits for the Mayor to pay her some attention.

Regina looks up slowly, expressionless, as the muscles in her face seem suddenly numb. She takes in the Sheriff's appearance distractedly, her mind struggling to process the damning hatefulness glimpsed without the younger woman's knowledge.

Emma waits patiently, her grin faltering slightly as the brunette studies her with clinical indifference. She wonders in confusion if this is a part of some little game, and decides to wait for further explanation. She wears a very simple, dark green shirt, buttoned demurely high, with its hem tucked into the washed out denim of the sinfully small shorts the Mayor had spied- much to her delight- when they had rummaged through her wardrobe. As the stoic silence continues, the blonde becomes increasingly unsettled, glancing down at her bare legs critically; trying to figure out what she's done wrong.

Regina studies the Sheriff coldly, dark eyes blackening with lust as she drinks in yet another version of the chameleon blonde, but absent of any of the cautious warmth and affection that the younger woman has glimpsed recently. Her head hurts, and she is unsure whether the pain is caused by Emma's betrayal- not to mention anger at herself for allowing the insufferable little imp to blind her the way she has- or the simple need to launch herself at the younger woman.

To fuck her.

To kill her.

"... Regina? Is something wrong?"

_Clueless. Despicably unaware. Pretty eyes shining with innocence; a whore's trick, you hateful little bitch. Do you honestly think you're going to get away with this?_

Expression softening with professional skill, the brunette clears her throat and forces a seductive smirk to grace her lips.

"No, dear, I was just lost in my thoughts, there's nothing wrong at all."

A playful grin alights the Sheriff's face once more; teeth flashing as she makes her way slowly over to stand before the Mayor. Manicured hands find the smooth flesh of pale thighs, tracing intricate patterns higher and higher until the brunette pulls the blonde down to straddle her lap.

_In our world, they would call you a Siren. Deceitful. Conniving. Bitch._

Scarlet lips brush against pink, devouring slowly, deeply, as hands explore.

"We should... We should lock the door... In case Henry comes by on his lunch break..."

Emma's voice is a breathless murmur into dark tresses and the Mayor digs her nails brutally into soft flesh, biting down on the vulnerable column of the blonde's throat; none of the usual sensual pressure, but simply sharp teeth closing with violent fury.

" _Ah! Fuck!_ "

Pale hands scramble fitfully over the luxurious silk of the brunette's jacket, struggling to find purchase before pushing their owner's aggressor shakily away.

"Not so...Not so _hard_!"

Regina studies the blonde intently as green eyes water and the younger woman fingers the abused flesh tentatively; her expression momentarily fearful as she returns the Mayor's gaze.

"Yes. You're right. Locking up might be a good idea, Miss Swan."

The Sheriff pushes herself off the brunette's lap clumsily, battling to keep her composure as pain-induced tears threaten to spill out onto her cheeks. She glances down surreptitiously at her fingers to check for blood, but they remain thankfully untainted. Hurrying over to the door to engage the lock, she turns with a sharp gasp as the brunette slams her roughly against the painted wood.

"Hey!"

Lust battles with unsettled caution and lucks out as Emma wraps her arms around the Mayor's waist and pulls her flush, searching out scarlet smudged lips and laughing huskily as Regina kisses her hungrily.

"I should wear shorts more often..."

 _I'm sure you will, dear, because once I'm done with you, you can kiss your job, your life, this_ town _goodbye. You deserve nothing. You will_ have _nothing. I will ruin you, the way you are trying to ruin me. I will destroy you, if it is the last thing I do._

"I wouldn't object."

Again that low laugh; the Sheriff oblivious to brunette's wrath. Regina swallows the sound swiftly, closing her eyes as slim fingers work deftly at the clasp of her dress pants before dipping slyly beneath the soft lace that covers her sex. She rests her own hands at the blonde's slender throat; delighting in the way the younger woman stiffens a little as her fingers press down softly. Dangerously. She can feel Emma's pulse- vital- beneath her fingers, and smirks when the blonde gives in to trust and simply continues her blissful ministrations as she increases the pressure ever so slightly.

 _I should finish this now I have the chance. The way whomever painted that damning scar across your stomach should have finished it. The way any of the men you stupidly allowed to follow you home should have finished it. You've spent the last ten years fucking around, indulging in whatever sins your crude mind craved,_ never _having to deal with the pressure of who you really were. The Savior._

_A mother._

_You have tiptoed the line to ruin me for too long now, and I'll admit; you must harbor your own breed of magic as you have kept me from seeing it these past few weeks._

_Cleverer than you let on._

_We will never know if Good prevails. There_ is _no 'good'. You are nothing but a malicious little bitch._

_No better than I._

_You threw your child away the same way you would a ripped condom, and think you can just come back into his life? You think you can build up a case against me?_

_Those papers. Those documents. Were you planning on filling them out after you pushed for just a little more fun._

_Perhaps we should have fucked on top of them._

_What do you think?_

_It matters not._

_I know now._

_You were good, but I'm better._

_You should have left this town when I warned you._

_It would have been wise._

_Because, you see... I think... I think there may only be_ one _solution to this little impasse at which we find ourselves, dear._

_The curse would break..._

_I will find a way. I always do._

_You should have stayed in fucking Boston._

Regina tightens her grip as she climaxes violently, breathing heavily as she pulls herself back under control. Emma makes a choked sound in her ear; hands finding slim wrists and pulling the brunette's dangerous fingers away from her throat. She offers the Mayor a nervous grin which doesn't quite serve to hide the panic that dances in her eyes.

She looks curiously young. Fragile.

"Sorry, dear."

The brunette observes the red marks left by her fingers with mild curiosity, dark eyes flickering briefly to the purple mark left by her teeth. She touches the pained skin there gently, observing the way the blonde shudders slightly.

Clasping up her moderately crumpled dress-pants, the Mayor straightens her shirt and neatens her hair. She returns the warm smile the Sheriff offers her as she takes a seat at the dining room table with surprising ease and believable sincerity.

_Why did you have to go and do this... Why!?_

"I best be on my way actually, Sheriff. Not _all_ of us have the luxury of untrustworthy plumbing to excuse us from work."

"I _am_ working!"

"Yes... I imagine you are..."

She sighs, dark eyes flickering briefly to the slim folder that sits blackly atop white, innocent paper. Like poison.

"I will see you soon, I'm sure."

"I'd imagine so."

Emma offers her a friendly wave, and the Mayor unlocks the door swiftly and slips from sight before she either kills her or breaks down.

_Why?_

* * *

"Are you seriously looking into this?"

"Huh?"

Emma glances over to her bedroom doorway where Mary Margaret stands curiously at the threshold. The schoolteacher raises the slim file left by Gold as her brow furrows pensively. The blonde raises an eyebrow in surprise and motions that her housemate should come in.

"Well yeah, I was going to do it sooner, but Gold had mislaid the paperwork... Why? Shouldn't I?"

"Oh, no, I think you should... I think it's a good thing- _great_ , actually- so long as you're sure you're ready..."

"Wait... What?"

The Sheriff frowns in confusion, plucking the slim folder from Mary Margaret's fingers and flipping it open. She scans the official looking document regarding the Pawnbroker's damage claims and insurance curiously. Everything seems to be in order, so far as she can tell, anyway; after all, she has merely been collecting any outstanding legal documentation relating to the storm and cataloguing it. Making a copy before allowing the insurance firm to deal with the issue. She is about to enquire as to why Gold should be exempt from legal aid- sure, he is hardly one in need of monetary assistance, but she can't exactly be seen to show favoritism- when she notices the file to be thicker than expected. Leafing through the subsequent pages she frowns.

"What's this?"

She speed-reads through several of the court forms, each going into further depth regarding parental custody and child protection acts. Sighing, she closes the folder with a frown, before catching the curious gaze bestowed on her by her housemate.

"I, uh... I was unaware that was in there..."

"Oh... Look, if I wasn't supposed to know you asked Gold for help, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry, I just thought I recognized the folder and-"

"-I didn't."

"Sorry?"

"I _didn't_ ask Gold for help..."

"Oh."

"I guess it wouldn't be the _first_ time he's taken things on himself..."

She glances up and finds Mary Margaret's concerned confusion and shrugs awkwardly.

"I... I'm still sorting things out..."

Recognising her housemate's obvious reluctance to discuss the matter further, the schoolteacher breaks into an affectionate smile and offers the blonde a friendly gesture with her hand which suggests she will pry no further.

"I was thinking of ordering pizza for dinner if you wanted?"

"Oh, hell yes. I am definitely down for that!"

"You want to share one?"

Mary Margaret laughs at the incredulous look the Sheriff throws her and shakes her head, putting her hands up in mock surrender.

"Ok, ok, one each!"

She takes her leave and trots back down into the living room to place their order, Emma calling loudly from her bed.

"Large!"

"Medium!"

"If you order medium you have to order garlic bread!"

"If I order medium you can just eat the salad in the fridge should you find yourself to be 'starving'!"

"Over my dead body! Large!"

"Where the hell do you even _put_ it! It's not fair! And don't you know gluttony is a sin?"

"You're just jealous! So is envy!"

"Shush, I'm ordering! Quit yelling, I'm pretty sure the neighbours can hear you!"

"Bite me!"

Emma grins as she hears her housemate mutter with affectionate irritability from the kitchen. Smile faltering slightly, she frowns down at the folder in her lap. Opening it, she plucks the two first pages that relate to the storm out and places them on her bed, before tossing the rest of the documents into the small trashcan at the end of her bed without a second glance.


	28. Chapter 28

It is well past midnight when the brunette finally makes her way home; shaking Sydney awake as he slumbers at her kitchen table and dismissing him curtly, before making her way upstairs. She stands for a while in the doorway to Henry's bedroom, watching the young boy dream peacefully. His small hand clutches at an ugly, black brick of technology, causing her brow to furrow irritably.

She had found out about the walkies a little over a week ago; having heard Henry having what had seemed at first to be a highly excitable conversation with himself. Listening in a little more closely, she had made out the static hum which carried with it a familiar low drawl. She had previously suspected the two were using some such method of communication- what with Henry frequently slipping from the house or making his way to Granny's at seemingly random times- and had, at the time, decided to leave it be. Once again, when visiting the blonde and patching up her injuries sustained in the woods, she had spotted the twin to the walkie now gripped in her son's small hand and had mused briefly on how easily she could just slip it into her pocket and take it, but at the time... Well, at the time she had been content to just let such things slide.

"I'm sorry, Henry."

She closes the door quietly, retreating, not wishing for her mind to play cruel guessing games as to what her son's face will look like when she tells him what's happened.

 _What's_ going _to happen._

Padding softly down the hallway to her own room, she falls onto the king-sized bed with a sigh.

_Never even did it in either of our beds._

Her fingers slip into her pocket to find the smooth, curious surface to an almost perfect globe. She pulls the apple from her jacket- flawless but for a singular, pale-fleshed bite- and studies it morosely.

Upon leaving the Sheriff's apartment, the apple- the sleeping curse- had never even crossed her mind. All that her damaged psyche could fathom at the time had been the imminent demise of the hateful little bitch that has been playing her for the past couple of weeks.

At first, as she had sat motionless at her kitchen table, her mind had flashed feverishly with images of pain and suffering. Of plunging a knife viciously into the blonde's chest.

She could picture it, too; Emma's slender limbs flailing as green eyes become glassy, and dark blood- life blood- spills over the pleasant valley between her breasts.

She hates the younger woman. Despises her for what she has done... However, this thought... This image of the Sheriff shaking and convulsing as she bleeds out on the floor... She detests Emma... Yet she knows it isn't an option.

And not just because butchering the blonde in cold blood will result in the curse crumbling to nothing before her very eyes.

There had been a time, back in her land- back in her home- when she had found great pleasure in witnessing just such suffering. Where the taking of a heart had been brutal and empowering; ripping out that curious vessel and studying her victim's face intently as she slowly turned it to ash. Sharing with them their last breath, their final understanding that the end really _does_ come for everyone. Watching bright eyes cloud over and knowing that her reign would last forever. Knowing that she would never _ever_ have to be that younger version of herself- powerless as her mother performed that same act- because, so long as she inflicted it onto others, pain would _surely_ leave her be.

The idea of taking the Sheriff's heart had seemed fitting, had seemed right. But this land is different, and if she were to bury her fingers into the perfect flesh of the blonde's chest, there would be only pain; slick and wet. There are no enchantments in this land. In this land, Emma's heart would just be a meaningless organ; beating to its own idiot rhythm, sure to hammer faster and faster and perhaps break should the Mayor attempt to squeeze it.

It would be messy. It would be painful. It would be impossible.

And that had brought her back to the knife.

Back to the matter at hand.

Her current situation.

Her intended victim.

She struggles to understand her own heart, her own mind, but somehow she knows this is different. She had thought she would yearn to push the blonde down into the dirt; back into her place. To straddle the younger woman as the blade made easy work of smooth skin- blemishing white with roses- as she watched her suffer first pain, then fear, before finally: comprehension.

Perhaps even regret. But she doubts it.

She wants the blonde dead.

Yet, curiously, she has found she doesn't wish to watch her die.

Can't watch.

Won't watch.

And so, her mind had gone on twisting and churning as the ornate clock hanging above the table in her kitchen had counted away quiet seconds; a regimented beat to the chaos within her skull. She had remained sat as though frozen until her muscles began to scream and cramp, before- finally- the idea of the apple had crossed her wounded thoughts.

Like mother like daughter.

_The apple never falls far from the tree._

A languid smile touches her lips now, as she lies on her bed studying the forbidden fruit. Running the pad of her thumb over slightly pitted skin, she is surprised she didn't think of it sooner. The symbolism is perfect. It makes the tedious past few hours spent bickering and bargaining with that insufferable, deranged fool Jefferson worth it.

A small part of her had been worried he was right when he'd said it wouldn't work- that she was to fail before her plan had even begun- but as soon as she'd shown him the ring, Daniel's ring, she had known from the look on his face that the game was still on.

And wasn't there something in _that_ , too?

Using one lover's ring to destroy-

Ah.

But Daniel is the only one she has ever loved.

Sighing, she places the apple beside her on the nightstand, before getting up and readying herself for bed. She imagines sleep will be a long time in coming, but she is under its spell almost as soon as she slides beneath the silken sheets.

As the sky suffers a languid fit of epilepsy- the moon flashing with pale knowledge behind the ever moving clouds- the Mayor's face is plagued by a similar dance. Her sleep serene expression broken periodically with a distressed frown.

A few miles away, buried beneath the fortress of her thick throw, the blonde's brow smooths and creases much the same.


	29. Chapter 29

"I want to do you now!"

"Well, ok, but just once! And not too hard! I've only just had lunch and I don't fancy chucking it back up."

Henry beams as he jumps up from the swivel chair which currently centers the blonde's office amidst the no longer needed 'caution- wet floor' signs and waits for Emma to take his recently vacated spot. She offers him an exaggerated look of foreboding as she crosses her legs neatly to sit perched on the threadbare seat; shimmying a little to ease the pull of her tight jeans.

"You have to close your eyes, ok?"

"Do I...?"

"Yes! It's the whole _point_!"

"Ok, ok! They're closed!"

The Sheriff chuckles as Henry adopts his best patronizing tone. She feels of a small waft of air hit the tip of her nose a couple of times and imagines the young boy is waving his hand in front of her face to test her.

"Okaaaay... Commencing countdown! Three... Two... One... _Blast off!_ "

The blonde lets out a high-pitched yelp as she scrambles desperately for somewhere to cling on to as Henry spins the chair with surprising force for his size. She almost accomplishes it, too- fingers digging ruthlessly into the sides of the seat- but with her vision compromised and head spinning, she overreaches, sending herself flying off the chair to land in a crumpled heap on the cold, stone floor. Henry cracks up loudly with laughter.

"Your empathy is truly honorable..."

"What's empathy?"

"Something in which you are clearly lacking! Not surprising, given your mo-..."

Trailing off quickly- inwardly asking herself why she should feel the need- she reaches out a hand from her pathetic position at the young brunet's feet and raises a brow.

"Care to give me a hand?"

Henry eagerly complies; exerting himself with an excessive amount of effort, and almost pulling the blonde back down onto the floor, only this time on top of himself. Staggering, Emma steadies him as he trips over his own feet.

"Wow, truly the world's most coordinated family! Ever consider taking up figure skating, either of you?"

Ruby quips sarcastically from the doorway, beaming at the grinning boy and blushing Sheriff. Making her way further into the room, she folds away the 'caution' signs the blonde has neglected to put aside- despite the fixed leak and subsequent water having been mopped up hours ago- before turning back to face Emma and handing over a steaming paper cup she clasps from the Diner, straightening Henry's comically askew scarf with her spare hand.

"Emma said she could skate!"

Henry pipes up as the blonde takes a seat atop her desk and sips appreciatively at the hot mocha bestowed on her.

"Yeah, skate _board_. When I was fifteen. And not well."

"Oh I'd _pay_ to watch _that_ though!"

Ruby waggles her eyebrows teasingly as she perches on the abandoned swivel chair, using the balls of her feet to push herself lazily from side to side.

"Well, it's too bad for _you_ then that you don't have the money I'd charge for front row seats!"

"She said she'd teach me, you could hide and watch!"

"Yes, Ruby, come hide and watch..."

Ruby smirks as the blonde widens her eyes with false sincerity and mouths silently over to her: 'because that wouldn't be creepy at _all!_ '

Henry smiles- this last part going smoothly over his head- as he hops up onto the desk next to the Sheriff and nudges her repetitively with cheeky intent, grin widening as every now and then she gives him a swift jab back with her elbow.

"So, what can I do for you, Miss Lucas?"

Ruby rolls her eyes at the Sheriff's formal address, leaning back into the chair and kicking off so that she spins slowly round, coming to a stop when she faces the blonde once more.

"Well, you could always pay me..."

Emma grins, digging her fingers into her jacket in search for her wallet, but the waitress holds up her hand and shakes her head amiably.

"Oh, forget it, it's on the house. I actually just came by to ask what you and Mary Margaret were doing for dinner. Granny has a tonne of meatloaf left over and no room in the fridges, so we're pretty much having a free for all!"

"Can I come!?"

The blonde shoots Henry a sideways glance, offering him a small shrug.

"I guess that's up to Regina... Actually... Shit! Kid, it's ten to five, get your butt on the road!"

"Can't I come eat with you and Mary Margaret?"

"Not tonight, Henry, your mom's probably cooked something. Maybe tomorrow."

"Yeah... like she's _ever_ going to let me..."

"...I'll ask her if it's ok."

"She'll say no, you _know_ she will!"

"Well, maybe she will, but I can always try to persuade her... For now, though, get your ass moving or she's not going to let you do _anything_!"

She gives him an amiable shove from the desk and watches in amusement as he goes about scrambling his bits and pieces back into his rucksack before turning her attention back to Ruby.

"I wish I could, but I'm pretty swamped at the moment... I took some work home yesterday because of the leak, but I... Well I didn't get a whole lot done. Give Mary Margaret a call, though. I'm not going to be able to make it back for dinner anyway, so I'm sure she'd like the company."

"Ah, that sucks. Yeah, I'll call her. Do you want any help?"

"No, it's mainly just going over some bits and pieces from the storm still, and a shoplifting report from the pharmacy. It's nothing difficult, just time consuming, but thanks to you I'll be on a caffeine high, and I happen to have a large pack of M&Ms in the fridge which I'm looking forward to spending some alone time with."

"You are so bad! You want me to bring you some meatloaf over to eat here?"

"Nope, I _do_ also have some sandwiches... I'm just not quite as excited for those."

Attention flickering over to Henry as he scampers for the door she offers him a wave and bids him goodnight. The young waitress yells at him to wait up and pushes herself from her chair, fluttering her fingers at the blonde before falling in step beside the kid and accompanying him out into the street.

* * *

"Henry, please don't chew with your mouth open."

Henry glances over at her sullenly before he goes back to pointedly ignoring the brunette.

"How was school today?"

"Fine."

"What did you study?"

"Stuff."

"Henry..."

She frowns at him before staring down at her plate. She moves the food about on the expensive china restlessly, but she doesn't feel much like eating. Stabbing a pea onto her fork, she brings it to her mouth, only to find she is stuck with the hateful morsel resting on her tongue; her throat refusing to swallow. Conquering her body's sudden absurd weakness, she chokes it down, spluttering slightly, before glancing up to find cold green eyes studying her indifferently.

_See what you've done to him?! How you've turned him against me, you hateful bitch?_

"Did you go see Emma?"

"Uhuh."

"Sorry? What was that?"

Dark eyes burn brightly as the Mayor raises an eyebrow in distaste at her son's rudeness.

"Yes."

"Is she back at the station? Or is she still working from home?"

"Why do _you_ care?"

"Henry! Stop this! I 'care' because as the Mayor it is my job to make sure town employees are able to perform their jobs as best as possible! If the Sheriff is still having problems with the Station's plumbing, I need to know!"

"... She got the leak fixed, she's working late to catch up on some stuff she said."

"I see."

The brunette sighs as Henry pushes his plate away with the vegetables barely touched. Ordinarily, she would challenge him on it, but tonight she just doesn't have the energy. She has witnessed the crap the blonde puts into her system enough times now to know that when the boy is with _her_ , he need not worry about finishing off his greens. It is a battle she is unwilling to fight tonight.

"If you're done, you can wash up your things."

Henry throws her a distrusting glance; his mother allowing him to escape without finishing his plate almost unheard of. Scrambling briskly from his seat, lest she change her mind suddenly, he obediently takes his plate and cutlery from the table and into the kitchen.

Regina massages her temples as though warding off a headache as she recognizes the quiet screech of metal on china as Henry scrapes his leftovers into the trash. Sighing, and picking up her own half-eaten meal and utensils, she stalks into the kitchen to follow suite.

"Is this for dessert?"

She glances over and takes a sharp intake of breath as Henry peers into the fridge and pokes a finger at the cold apple pie resting on the middle shelf.

"Get away from that!"

She all but shouts at him, before catching her breath and finishing coolly

"... If you can't finish your dinner, then you don't need dessert."

" _Emma_ would let me."

It is quiet, almost a hiss beneath his breath, but it is the last straw. She feels her cheeks burn as she prepares to yell at him for his insolence, the boy's bad attitude every bit as despicable as the blonde's.

" _Henry!_..."

She struggles to find words that fit her displeasure, brow creasing as Henry turns back to face her, because, in that brief moment- with the way his naturally mischievous eyes glint at her and his mouth forms a hard line; sullenly downturned at the corners- everything she sees is so _obviously_ hereditary she can find only air.

 _So? Genetics mean nothing. A year ago, he had no idea who in the hell she_ was _... She is_ not _his mother. If I could do this in a way where he wouldn't have to know- wouldn't have to find out about the realities of mortality so young- I would. Not for her sake, nor for mine, but for his... But I can't._

"... You can have some ice cream... The pie is for a meeting tomorrow."

Henry's eyes narrow doubtfully, but when the brunette moves to open the freezer and pulls out a small tub of chocolate chip, he realizes her offer is genuine and offers her a cautious smile.

"...Thank you."

"You're welcome, Henry."

Decanting an amount much more generous than she would ordinarily allow into a small bowl, she hands it to him, before glancing up at the clock that hangs above the table in the corner. Forcing her lips to form their kindest smile, she places a hand on his skinny shoulder and guides him into the living room to sit before the TV.

_Another first._

"Henry... I'm sorry if things have been difficult lately... The thing is... Miss Swan... Emma... She's not your mother-"

"-Yes she _is_!"

"... What I mean is that she only sees you for short periods of time, which means she doesn't have to take on any mundane responsibilities. Do you know what that means?... It means... Sometimes I tell you to do things or not to do things because as your _mother_ , it's what I think is best... You may not always agree with them or understand them, but it's how family works... I don't do it to be mean, Henry... I do it because... I want what's best for you."

Henry frowns as the brunette regards him with tired eyes; not used to seeing this side to the Mayor. Regina offers him a small smile and turns on the television, flicking briskly through the channels until she finds one of his cartoons.

"I need to pop out for a while, dear. Not long, only half an hour or so... I need you to be good and stay inside, ok? I'll be back soon."

"Ok."

"Good boy...I love you, Henry."


	30. Chapter 30

Regina hesitates for a moment; not used to finding the door to the Sheriff's office to be closed. She glances at her watch; seven twenty. She supposes the blonde could have left and gone home, but she doubts it; that would make things too easy. If Emma is nowhere to be found, she can come back tomorrow. She can put this off.

_To what purpose, other than to drive yourself slowly mad?_

Pulling herself together, she squares her shoulders and raps lightly on the door before peering inside.

"Sorry, Station's closed, you'll have to- Oh! It's you!"

The brunette falters momentarily before forcing a perfectly believable smile as she inwardly forbids herself to dwell on the way the younger woman's expression softens into a grin when realising who her visitor is.

Almost as if she is genuinely pleased to see the her.

 _And why wouldn't she be? So far as she's concerned I'm none the wiser to her little undercover operation. It would be foolish to believe myself to be the_ only _one capable of putting on a pleasant face, that much I have already learnt._

"It's me. Burning the midnight oil?"

"More like early evening oil. Fuck _me_ if I'm staying here 'til midnight!"

The blonde offers her a wide grin, as if daring the Mayor to take her up on such an offer. Regina raises a brow and shoots Emma a small smirk before letting herself into the office fully, taking a seat opposite the Sheriff.

"Have you had dinner? Do you want some?"

Emma holds out half of her sandwich amiably as the brunette wrinkles her nose. Reading the older woman's expression easily, the Sheriff chuckles with a carefree shrug and takes a bite herself.

"Actually, dear, I came to bring you dessert..."

Regina smirks as the blonde chokes on her mouthful of peanut butter and jelly; telling herself her amusement is simply disdain rather than genial humor.

"Is there a problem, Miss Swan?"

"Apart from being fairly sure I now have a generous helping of bread down my windpipe, not at all!"

The Sheriff blinks away the water from her eyes and offers the Mayor a strained smile which dissipates into a gail of laughter once she trusts her respiratory system to behave itself.

The brunette looks away; Emma's uninhibited laughter something she has only seen on a couple of occasions, and, given the way things have turned out, something she doesn't want to get hooked on.

_Because getting hooked on that husky, throaty sound and the way she throws her head back and shakes with it seems dangerously easy._

"Should I be flattered or offended by your rather overjoyed reaction?

"Sorry! I guess that's up to you... I'd say flattered... But I'm curious to know what my punishment would have been if you'd felt offended..."

 _Oh, if you only_ knew _what punishment you have in store... How can you be so glib? So easy-going? Have you no sense of guilt at all? No conscience?_

"Hmm... Well, let's see..."

The Mayor rises slowly; leaning as far as she can across the desk and reaching for the collar of the blonde's shirt. Pulling at her roughly so that she meets her half way, she presses her lips hard against Emma's, meanwhile increasing the power with which she tugs at the Sheriff's shirt until, eventually, the younger woman gets the hint and climbs slowly up onto the table, kneeling atop its surface. Regina lets her hands fall from the blonde's lapels down to her ass and pulls her closer still.

_This is a mistake. Just give her the pie and leave the bitch to rot._

"Get on the bed."

The brunette points to the small cot in the jail cell; the very same on which she had caused the younger woman so much anguish what seems like forever ago. Emma raises an eyebrow, but does as she's told; walking over to the bed and sitting expectantly down on its edge, pale face upturned to the Mayor who follows her and riddled with curiosity.

"On your back."

"Why?"

Regina doesn't offer an answer, but merely waits as the Sheriff gives a casual shrug of her shoulders and swivels herself with ease until she lies prone on the rough cotton spread. She regards the blonde with clinical interest, appreciating the gentle curves of the svelte form she knows hides beneath cheap clothes, but refusing to acknowledge any of the warmth she has found when spending time with Emma over the past week or so.

 _Almost_ refuses.

_There is no doubt in my mind that I am making the right decision... And with that in mind; this is the end. There is no beauty in death, that part of the fairytale is nothing but a cruel lie. There will be no glass coffin. So let there be beauty while it is still possible. Until the end._

Lowering herself gently so that she straddles the Sheriff, the brunette begins to slowly undo the small buttons to her shirt. Emma moves to give her a hand, but the Mayor shakes her head and pushes the blonde's fingers gently away. She doesn't speak- doesn't explain what she wants- so the younger woman rests her hands patiently at her sides and simply waits.

Regina is slow and methodical in her work; stopping every now and then to press her mouth to a familiar freckle or bone. She traces the crude scar that runs the Sheriff's midsection with her finger, but ignores the silver lines at her sides cautiously.

 _She is_ not _his mother. Blood means nothing._

When she finally has the blonde completely naked- rising from the bed to pull the last scrap of cotton slowly down slim legs- she stands back and lets her eyes roam, musing bitterly that she could conjure a perfect image of the younger woman should she close her eyes, and hating that fact.

"Regina?"

She glances down into wide eyes and smiles. Holding the Sheriff's gaze, she slowly strips off her own finely-tailored ensemble so that she stands just as bare as the woman before her. Closing her eyes, she lowers herself back onto the cot- back onto the blonde- and stretches herself out carefully so that her slim frame shrouds Emma's. She runs her tongue teasingly down the pale column of the Sheriff's throat before resting her jaw comfortably in the hollow of the blonde's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

Emma fidgets slightly, unsure what is expected of her. She tries to wiggle her thigh to nestle between the brunette's to offer the darker woman a touch of friction, but with the way the Mayor remains so calm and still, she soon desists. This isn't about sex it would seem.

* * *

The brunette is unsure how long they stay that way- sharing breath and body heat- but she imagines there is some clue in the dull cramp that pulses in her legs when she finally rolls off the blonde. Bending her head to cast shadow across the younger woman's face, she captures the Sheriff's lips softly and offers her a slow kiss which she only breaks when it threatens to turn salty with the traitorous tear she feels rolling down her cheek.

Pulling away she swipes the droplet swiftly from soft skin and captures the younger woman's gaze one final time.

"You deserve it."

"Deserve what?"

Green eyes glitter amiably up at her, pale lips pulling back into a lazy smile. The brunette simply nods her head, offering no further explanation, and makes her way to the door, turning as she reaches the threshold to see the younger woman casually going about collecting her clothes.

"Don't forget your sock under the bed, there... I've left you an apple pie in the fridge in the little kitchenette round the back..."

"Really? Cool, thanks! Night, Regina."

"... Goodbye, Miss Swan."


	31. Chapter 31

_Just drink it. It doesn't matter that it tastes terrible, just drink it anyway. It's_ good _that it tastes terrible. Focus on that. Focus on_ anything. _Just not..._

The Mayor glances over at the telephone resting at the edge of her desk. She feels her fingers twitch instinctively but keeps herself firmly under control. She is tired, having been failed by the sandman after returning from the Sheriff's station, and her head pounds miserably. She has spent the past two hours since entering her office this morning battling the urge to ring the Station.

To see if there's still an answer.

_It was foolish to leave the end so messy and unpredictable. To torture myself with the uncertainty of when and where. I should have served it to her myself._

She shakes such thoughts away; berating herself for letting them plague her the way they have all morning. She is proud, but she is also wise to her own mind, and she knows witnessing the blonde crash was never an option. At least, not since finding the younger woman sat patiently in her drawing room before asking her to dance.

_Magic may not work the same here... She may suffer... It may not work at all... She may... Well, she may ..._

_No. The blonde won't die. Can't die. The curse must remain._

She sighs; her morbid thoughts completing their dizzying circle as she ponders, not for the first time, who will find the Sheriff. She has purposely organised for Henry to have a session with Archie this afternoon, taking caution to keep her son from straying towards the Station at any point today. She imagines it will most likely be the little tramp from the Diner, and this suits her just fine. Ruby may be insufferably useless, but she will eventually call upon the right people. Many people. Enough to create confusion and displace blame.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or are you drinking a hot chocolate?"

The Mayor glances up, startled, before her lip curls into a snarl.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Gold strides into the room, his cane thumping out a dull beat upon the floor, and takes a seat opposite the brunette, paying her murderous scowl no mind.

"Just a wee visit. You had mentioned you wished to purchase a fair amount of land when we spoke a few weeks ago, but I have since then heard nothing from you. Is this still of any interest?"

"No."

"Curious... I wonder what changed your mind? Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"What's eating you, dearie?"

Dark eyes glitter at her from sunken sockets, the golden glint of his upper incisor sparkling at her odiously as the old pawnbroker offers an insincere smile of concern. The brunette regards him stoically for as long as she can bear, before her rage finally gets the better of her and she slams her hand down on the desk- her cup rattling dangerously in its saucer- and leans forward to hiss at the little venomously.

"You little _snake_... You've been working against me! You told me this was a race, but you've been going behind my back!"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Emma! Miss Swan! You've been helping her with legal advice to take away _my_ son! I have long since learned to expect such low, conniving, traitorous behavior from you, but to hand her over the papers she needs without so much as a _word_... What's in it for you?"

"... She _did_ read them then... Curious..."

"What?"

The Mayor glares angrily at her unwelcome guest, a vein standing out beneath the smooth skin at her forehead. Gold leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers beneath his chin, regarding the brunette with casual intrigue. Raising an eyebrow, he simply repeats himself.

"Curious."

" _What_ is!?"

"That she would go straight to you; that she would fight her own battle... Foolish... But curious."

"...Come straight to me?"

"I had come to the assumption that Miss Swan had either neglected to do her job and process my legal papers- something which would hardly render me surprised- or that the young Sheriff was simply not ready to proceed at this point... I had imagined she would come barrelling into my office in that ever chaotic way of hers and demand to know more the _second_ she saw those documents... I merely find her chosen course of action to be... Curious."

Regina swallows dryly- what little moisture that remains in her mouth tasting hatefully like copper- and moves her hands to rest in her lap; not wishing the pawnbroker to notice their sudden trembling.

"She didn't... Ask you for them?"

"Not in so many words, but then, Miss Swan is _hardly_ the most eloquent person at the best of times. Upon deciding to stay in town, she made it quite clear she wished for some advice. Some sort of aid to help her get Henry away from what she considered an unhealthy environment... I believe it was just after that small fire of which we still sadly don't know the cause... I processed her desire, and saved it for a rainy day... And now, I need help with some legal documents relating to the storm, as well as information on our new visitor. Hence, I'd hoped she'd come to me directly. I would never expect something for nothing-"

"-You... _Why_?!"

"Simple. I wanted something."

"Oh my god..."

"Are you alright, dearie, you're looking rather pale?"

"You planted those papers where you knew I'd see them!"

"How could I _possibly_ know you would find yourself snooping through her things? You mean she _didn't_ approach you about this?"

"Of course not! You... I don't know how, but you _did_! You _planned_ this! You want to break the c-... You want her gone!"

Gold regards the Mayor with a small sense of alarm as the brunette loses all sense of poise and etiquette and simply screams this last part; eyes flashing dangerously.

"Regina, what did you do?"

"Get out! Now!"

"What have you done?"

" _Now_!"

The pawnbroker frowns, but takes his leave; mind churning as he endeavors to process the stilted information he has received. Glancing back at the Mayor, he sees her reach for the phone on her desk with shaking hands.

_Curious._

* * *

"No!"

The brunette slams the phone back in its cradle after a minute of hateful, idiotic ringing.

No answer at the station.

Pulling her cell from her pocket, she scrolls shakily through her contact list; fingers refusing to work as she wants them to. Finally, she manages to find the blonde's personal number and holds her breath as it rings once. twice. three times.

"Hello-"

"-Emma! Oh god! I need you to listen to me, ok, I need you to do something-"

"-You've reached Emma Swan, leave a message and number and I'll get back to you when I can."

A small beep and then silence as the answering machine records the brunette's disbelief. The Mayor simply stares at the phone in her hand; mouth open and eyes wide.

Finally breaking herself from her frozen state, she snatches her car keys from the table and hurries out the office, not bothering to lock the door behind her.


	32. Chapter 32

An angry screech as rubber burns over grey asphalt, and the wing mirror of the brunette's Mercedes scrapes against Emma's bug.

"Shit!"

The Mayor pays the damage little mind; the thin strip of paint lining the blonde's car seeming almost hysterically unimportant. She pushes her way gracelessly from the plush interior of her Benz- her legs not quite willing to work the way she wishes them to- and hurries up the narrow footpath to the Station's main entrance.

_Could have sworn the path was never this long before..._

Standing in the dimly lit hallway, Regina stills her breathing and recoils from the doomed silence that sits heavily in the air around her. She takes in a shuddered breath, before forcing her feet to journey onwards; sharp heels tapping out an idiot rhythm on the cool linoleum floor.

_It's too quiet, too still... Since when was there no noise at all in this dump? Not even the sound of-_

This train of thought breaks mercifully, as upon nearing the Sheriff's office and the small kitchenette based a door further to the right, she picks up the faint hum of running water.

The sigh of relief that she lets out is less air than it is a wracked sob. Quickening her pace and shaking away the damning thoughts that have been churning in her mind- like locusts laid to hatch by the old pawnbroker- she makes for the kitchen; not entirely sure what she plans on telling the blonde to explain _why_ she is in such a fragile state, but deciding she doesn't much care right now.

"I could not give a single fuck..."

She breathes quietly; mimicking the expression she has heard the younger woman mutter on several occasions. She places her hand on the doorknob, frowning as her initial sense of foreboding creeps suddenly back into play. She tells herself to stop this nonsense; that if it isn't the Sheriff running the water she hears, who else would it possibly be?

_Get a hold of yourself... It's all going to be fine._

Pushing open the door, she understands immediately that something isn't right.

* * *

No. Something is most definitely _wrong_.

Dark eyes flickering to the overflowing sink, she feels her heart climb up into her throat. At this particular moment- staring at the greying water that pools within the basin and patters lazily down onto the floor- she doesn't think she has ever seen a sight so unsettling. Hurrying over, she wrenches the tap forcefully to shut off the troubling stream flowing from the faucet.

" _Ah_!"

She stumbles as she trips over something when she turns away from the sink and squeezes her eyes instinctively shut.

She doesn't want to look down upon the source of her misfortune.

She doesn't need to.

"Please... No?"

She whispers quietly to no one in particular, before cracking open her lids and peeking down from beneath sooty lashes. With her fear confirmed, she reaches quickly for the countertop beside her as her knees buckle beneath her.

"No, no, no... No... Don't do this..."

She shakes her hand in a way reminiscent of how one might wag a disapproving finger at a disobedient child. Her desperate forbidding goes unheeded as the Sheriff's eyes remain uncooperatively closed.

"Emma?"

The younger woman's normally white gold hair is drenched a dull yellow as it fans out limply about her in the dirty dregs of the water that glistens on the floor. She lies awkwardly on her side, the arm beneath her outstretched, and her shirt sleeve and chest stained dark with the spillage. Her jeans are pulled low on one side, revealing a slice of grey cotton, and the brunette lets herself fall heavily onto her knees beside her.

" _Ah_!"

She brushes away a sharp pain from her knee distractedly, as smooth skin is cut open on a stray shard of glass. She notes the majority of the vessel it must have come from is still clutched in the blonde's hand; jagged teeth of broken shards protruding cruelly from between her fingers. Paying her injury no mind, the Mayor shuffles closer and proceeds to shake the younger woman; gently at first, but then with a desperate violence that causes the Sheriff's head to smack lightly onto the drenched floor.

"Stop it! Stop this _now_!"

She cries out angrily as Emma remains insolently silent. Raising her hand and ignoring its obvious tremor, she brings it down hard across the blonde's face, before falling back to rest against the cupboard doors as she brings her offending fingers up to her eyes and covers them fretfully; breathing erratically through her self-induced darkness.

"...Please?"

She sniffs, as the chilled water that wets the floor seeps hatefully into the silk of her dress pants, causing the black fabric to cling to her slim legs uncomfortably. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand childishly, the brunette kneels forwards once more and regards the Sheriff with wide eyes.

"Come on now, Miss Swan... Come on now..."

She presses her fingers to the blonde's pale throat but the only thing she can feel is her own heartbeat thrumming madly. The flesh beneath her skin is cold and clammy. Shaking her head, Regina tries the other side; pushing at the Sheriff's jaw with bruising force as she digs her fingers into various locations along the hollows and column of Emma's throat. Letting out a loud sob, she removes her hands and wrings them nervously in her lap. Closing her eyes, she strives to control her breathing before glancing down at the blonde calmly.

"My dear, if this is your idea of a joke..."

She leans in close; her face hovering mere centimeters from the Sheriff's pale features, staring down into closed eyes intently.

"Is it?... Are you... Are you f-fucking with me?... You are, aren't you... Emma?... Aren't you?"

Silence.

The brunette's forehead creases as she frowns irritably down into the nothingness displayed across the younger woman's face.

"Miss Swan, if you think this is funny, you're sorely mistaken! If you don't quit this right _now_ , I will have you wishing you'd never been born!... Stop it!"

Silence.

" _Stop it, you hateful bitch!_ "

Nothing.

The blonde's lashes don't even flicker as the Mayor yells hoarsely in her face.

Regina breathes heavily, dark eyes desperately darting over the Sheriff's chalky complexion, trying to catch her out. Choking back another sob, she wipes at her cheeks distractedly before hanging her head so that dark tresses fall onto the blonde's chest.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have yelled... It was funny... It's funny... But, please... Stop it now, ok?"

Slim fingers stroking pale tangles shakily away from the younger woman's cool forehead.

"Ok, Emma?... Come on... Joke's over... Please?"

The Mayor closes her eyes as the blonde remains damningly still and rests her head gently against Emma's sternum.

"Don't... Don't do this... I... I came here to stop you... I'm trying to do the right thing... You can't... You can't do this _now_... It's not fair!"

She shuffles her knees awkwardly back- wincing as yet another shard of glass pierces her flesh- and rests her head to the side at the Sheriff's chest, studying the blonde's lifeless features unhappily. Her eyes flicker momentarily to the right, noting a silver gleam from the corner, and deducing it to belong to an abandoned fork on which remnants of pastry still cling.

_No. Not 'abandoned'. Dropped._

"Why couldn't you have just gone back to Boston?"

Whatever her reasoning; the Sheriff isn't sharing.

"Because of Henry?... I... I'm not saying I did everything right... But I didn't do everything _wrong,_ either... I love him. Sometimes I don't show that too well... But he has always had what he needed... Has always been looked after. I stand by what I said when you came... I know a lot more about being a mother than you do, dear... More than you _could_ , having been absent so long... And I would never hurt him... If I'd known he was so unhappy- that he had felt the need to find you and ask for help- I would have... I don't know... I... I couldn't stand the thought of you _taking_ him from me... I didn't go the best way about showing it at first when you came, but I don't _deserve_ to have him taken from me... I love him."

Regina sniffs as she fiddles with a section of damp blonde hair, running it through her fingers with a sad sense of affection.

"But... _You_ love him, too... I had thought... Sometimes it's hard not to mistake your actions for vengeance, Miss Swan... You're rude, obnoxious, crass... Just a general pain in the backside, really!... And what probably annoyed me _most-_ what I just couldn't _stand-_ is that _you_ were only trying to do _your_ best, also... And of _course_ Henry was going to prefer you! I'm the one that has laid down countless rules, that disciplines him when he misbehaves, that he sees day in and day out... That... _You_ didn't have to do _any_ of that! To him, you were someone he could have fun with, confide in, that would let him run around without consequence... How is that _fair_?"

The brunette's voice breaks angrily as she clenches her fist around the sodden curls in her hand. Closing her eyes- subsequently sending twin droplets rolling miserably down her cheeks- she loosens her grip and sighs defeatedly.

"It's not fair, but it's not _your_ fault either... _Christ,_ I wish I still hated you!"

She lets out a humorless chuckle before rising slowly onto her knees and straddling the younger woman's limp form in a way that has become so wretchedly familiar. Lips forming a watery smile, she presses them softly to the small scar above the Sheriff's left eye.

"I'm sorry, Emma..."

Brushing her fingers gently through knotted curls, she closes her eyes and lets the salt droplet traveling the full curve of her cheek to fall undisturbed.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry..."

Sniffing miserably, she brushes her lips gently over the blonde's pale brow before pressing them tenderly to cold lips with a sad smile.

_I love you._


	33. Chapter 33

_I love you._

Salted grief choking her as all barriers come crashing down, the brunette clenches her teeth angrily. Why must this always be the way? The same with Daniel. With her father. Even her mother... And now... The dumb, young Sheriff she never even liked in the _first_ place. Letting out a hoarse wail that forces her back to adolescence, she presses her mouth as firmly as she can to the blonde's; her teeth digging painfully into her lips but not caring.

"I... I lo-... Oh, god... _Fuck_!"

She sobs clumsily, her breath catching desperately in her throat before burying her face into the hollow at the blonde's shoulder, fingers plunged into the hidden depths of damp tresses.

"...-'Gina?"

Cold hands twitch as the blonde feels herself pulled nauseatingly back into the present. At first, all she's aware of is the biting chill coursing through her limbs, aided only by a comfortable warmth pressing down on her from above. Fighting against the stagnant paralysis in her chest, she gasps desperately for breath.

The Mayor cries out as she feels frail bones shift beneath her weight; whether in confusion, fear or joy she isn't quite sure. Staring raptly down into pale features, she lets out another small exclamation as her fingers find the Sheriff's face urgently; thumbs stroking feverishly over the warming skin of her cheeks.

"Emma?!"

Heavy lashes blink blearily open as Emma lets out a low groan and rolls her head to the side; brow creasing as her insides revolt against the poison so recently plaguing her system. The brunette laughs in giddy disbelief, dark eyes darting over the younger woman's chalky features feverishly before she grabs the Sheriff's jaw in her hand and holds her prone as she presses her lips fervently against the blonde's; ignoring the tears that stream uncontrollably down her cheeks to bitter the sweetness she finds there.

"You... You're..."

Finding she doesn't quite know what to say, the Mayor suffices to simply find the younger woman's mouth once more and closes her eyes.

"Regina... You're squishing me..."

The Sheriff looks up at the brunette in a way that is almost irritable, and thus sublimely familiar, causing the older woman to let out an exasperated sigh, despite her lips forming a small smile as she keeps them in place just a moment longer. Feeling cold fingers pushing weakly against her chest, she gets off the younger woman obediently- careful this time of the remnents of the glass the blonde had been holding when she fell- and kneels back at her side, fluffing her hair distractedly with shaking hands.

"Wha... W'happ'nd?"

Emma blinks at her surroundings curiously; careful not to move her head lest her brains fall out onto the floor, as, with the way her mind thrums sickeningly inside her skull, she feels this is a genuine concern.

"I... you... You were on the floor when I came in... You must have fainted..."

"Huh... I've _never_ fainted before..."

"Well that's hardly surprising given the amount of sugary garbage you consume on a daily basis."

The blonde rolls her eyes amiably, and the brunette lets out a small laugh that carries none of her characteristic authoritative sensuality, but only shocked relief.

"I have no idea what happened. I just remember coming in here to have lunch and thinking I should wash up the crap in the sink, and... Maybe I slipped or something..."

"...Maybe..."

"Regina... Are you... Are you _crying_?!"

The Sheriff pushes herself up onto her elbows- ignoring the nauseous lurch her stomach gives with the movement- and stares at the brunette in pure amazement. The Mayor scowls at her, wiping away the tear tracks which stain her cheeks, before growling as she is powerless to stop fresh droplets spilling down from wet lashes. Glaring down at Emma accusingly, she sniffs, before taking the younger woman's hand in hers and checking fussily for any injuries from the shattered glass.

"I was worried..."

"Really?"

Regina looks up- confused by the question- into wide green eyes which study her in open surprise, before adopting her most patronizing tone and smirking at the Sheriff.

"Yes, Miss Swan, _really_!"

Emma offers her a tentative grin, which breaks into a hiss as the brunette plucks a sliver of glass from her thumb.

"Aww, that's sweet!"

"And yet your sarcasm has me itching to knock you out again..."

"That wouldn't be all too hard, I'm still feeling majorly dizzy."

"Well, lying around in a dirty puddle probably doesn't help; come on, get up, I'll get you some water."

The Mayor holds out her hands expectantly to the blonde who takes them gingerly and allows herself to be pulled clumsily up onto her feet. Once standing, the Sheriff whimpers as everything blurs and doubles- panicking as her her knees give way- but Regina catches her easily, lacing a firm hand around her waist and holding her steady until the dizziness passes a little.

_Well this is certainly a lot less graceful than back home..._

She welcomes the thought gladly as it serves to push out any others... Like how the Sheriff is able to stand before her now after just a simple kiss.

_It can't have been..._

No. She won't go there right now.

"Ugh, you're soaking!"

"I'm sorry, next time I'll try to pass out somewhere more _convenient_ for you."

The brunette sighs, hiding a smile, as she walks the younger woman slowly into her office and sits her on one of the jail's cots.

"I'll be right back."

* * *

The brunette kicks away the fork beneath her feet as she fetches a glass from the cabinet above the sink and fills it with water. Pulling the plug from the basin, she allows the sink to drain; watching the dirty water as it forms a small whirlpool and disappears.

Shaking herself from her pensive observation, she hurries over to the fridge and searches for the hateful culprit of all of this. A brief moment of utter panic sweeps over her when she finds the fridge empty but for milk and cream, but it passes when she spots a familiar pie dish rested on the far counter.

 _Of course she'd eat it straight from the dish. Of course she wouldn't plate it up like a_ normal _person and just take a portion._

Reaching for the ceramic plate, she dispenses of it in its entierity, breathing a sigh of relief as it disappears into the black void of the trash bag.

* * *

Reentering the office, the Mayor rolls her eyes when she spots the blonde wrapped up in the coarse throw from the bed. She makes her way over and perches beside her, handing over the glass of water which the Sheriff drinks with ill-hidden distaste.

"All of it. It'll help you feel better. You can drown yourself in hot chocolate later!"

_Hell, I'll even make it for you myself, a whole damned saucer of it!_

"And I hate to tell you this, dear, but wrapping yourself up like that; all you'll succeed in doing is becoming warm and damp."

"Right now that sounds lovely, emphasis on the _warm_ part!"

"Get up."

The brunette pulls at the younger woman sternly, stealing away the woolen throw and tossing it onto the cot. With slow consideration, she begins to gently unbutton the blonde's shirt; sure Emma is more than capable of doing this herself, but feeling a deep need to do it anyway.

"Jeez, you just can't _help_ but try to get me naked, can you?!"

Regina rolls her eyes; scowling at the Sheriff who seems to have regained all color to her cheeks and all sass to her tone.

"Well, dear, being so makes you much more tolerable."

"You just want me for my body!"

"It is one of the key factors to my interest, it's true..."

The brunette smirks as Emma glowers at her; casually deciding to ignore the fact they're skating on thin ice as far as admitting the truth. She pulls off the blonde's shirt and tank top, leaving her in nothing but a simple black bra and a set of visible goosebumps courtesy of the cold. Unbuckling her jeans, Regina gestures for the Sheriff to sit back on the bed as she pulls them down, stopping to remove her boots, before pulling them clean away. She picks up Emma's discarded shirt and top and takes them to the corner where she hangs all of the sodden garments in her hand over the radiator. Turning back to face the blonde, she raises an eyebrow as the younger woman remains shivering and bare, as though waiting for further instructions.

"Apart from cold, how are you feeling?"

The brunette takes a seat on the edge of the bed, draping the throw securely over the blonde's shoulders, and- in spite of her better judgement- pulling the Sheriff closer to her.

_It's just for body heat..._

She imagines this argument would hold up even less if she were to run her fingers through messy curls, but does so anyway.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

The Mayor raises an eyebrow as the blonde nestles herself further into the crook of her arm; this display of affection and submission not one she is used to from Emma.

"I could ask you the same thing?...If you don't like it, I'll happily stop..."

Regina mutters a little irritably, only to have the Sheriff grin up at her cattily.

"Nope, you're good... I was meaning to ask you, though... Is everything alright?"

"Hmm?"

The Mayor frowns distractedly, her senses suddenly on edge as the Sheriff twists herself around to regard her properly.

"It's just, yesterday you seemed in a weird mood... Back at my place, too... I wondered if I'd done something?"

"No... No, dear, you didn't do anything..."

"But-"

The Mayor cuts her off quickly, not wanting to discuss the matter any further. Her eyes widen as the blonde pushes back into her kiss roughly before toppling them so that she is pinned beneath her.

_So much for remaining weak and tired..._

"Miss Swan, what-"

"-You're wearing too many clothes..."

Emma growls as she leans forward to taste the flesh at the brunette's throat; her fingers making fast work of the pearl clasps that line the front of her shirt. Regina sighs, her hands roaming over the blonde's back; desperate for the familiar feel of muscle and bone rippling beneath smooth skin- a sensation she has come to know intimately well. Pulling the younger woman down flush onto her- ignoring the Sheriff's irritable grumbling and obvious desire to get down to business- she holds her that way, tightly, for as long as she is allowed; murmuring into the blonde's ear as she breathes in the scent of her shampoo.

"It's always a competition with you, isn't it, dear."


	34. Chapter 34

Regina watches silently as the blonde goes about pulling on her pants which have dried mercifully quickly with the aid of the radiator. Emma dresses herself lazily, standing around in just her jeans and bra as she checks the answer machine for messages. Catching the brunette's stare, she offers an impish grin and pulls her hair back into a messy pony-tail; the action serving to flex her stomach muscles appetisingly. The Mayor rolls her eyes with a smirk.

"Not that I'm not enjoying the show or anything, but were you planning on getting dressed at any point, dear? Only, public decency laws go out the window if the Sheriff herself can't abide by them."

"Huh, now there's a fun thought... Just imagine-"

"-I'd rather not, Miss Swan; not everyone in the town is in quite as... Delectable... Shape as you are..."

"Delectable?"

"You can look it up when you get home."

"I know what it _means_! I've just never been complemented so by one so... Beguiling... As you are."

"Are you mocking me, Sheriff?"

"Mocking _you_? Surely not, Madame Mayor!"

Emma offers a playful flicker of her tongue between her teeth before turning and pulling on her dirtied shirt, not bothering with the wisp of an undershirt which still rests over the radiator. She stalks over to her desk, buttoning herself up as she goes, before taking a seat and playing with a stray curl of hair between her fingers as she glances up at the brunette.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm not..."

"Could have fooled me."

Regina sighs and gets up to make her way to the chair across from the Sheriff's. She fastens the clasp of her dress pants primly- tucking her shirt back in place- while striving to ignore the debauched dampness of the material between her legs.

As has so frequently been the case, their love-making had been hard and fast. Once she had managed to wrestle herself from Regina's tight embrace, the blonde had proceeded to bear down on the darker woman with an animalistic display of lust; all tongue and heat as her fingers had found their desired destination with talented ease. It had taken only a short number of minutes before the brunette had been shaking and clenching beneath her.

The Mayor ponders this thought with a sense of disquiet. She would in no way argue that she had not _enjoyed_ the Sheriff's amorous attentions- the wetness so candidly present beneath ivory lace speaks volumes- but she can't help feeling a little agitated none the less.

She would have liked to have held the blonde a little longer.

To appreciate her vitality.

_Am I supposed to continue as though nothing has happened?... I'm not sure that I can..._

No. But there is also no way of explaining her current predicament to Emma, who remains excruciatingly naive to recent events.

"You're doing it again."

"What's that, dear?"

"Staring at me."

Regina huffs irritably, but continues to hold the younger woman's bright gaze as it falls on her. The Sheriff raises an eyebrow curiously, before diverting her attention to the papers which litter her desk.

"Did you want something else?"

For a moment, the brunette cringes at Emma's words, but when the blonde glances back up, there is none of her patent stoic impatience, only simple intrigue, and the Mayor supposes she can understand the question; she has never before stuck around after their carnal pleasures have been completed.

"I..."

_I what? I'm glad you're alive? I'm sorry!? I just want to be around you a little longer?... Is that so terrible?_

"No, Miss Swan, that will be all."

The blonde frowns as Regina pushes herself from the seat she has so recently taken. She's pretty sure she's missed some small shift in atmosphere- some sort of 'sign' from the brunette- but she can't quite place what it might have been. Watching the older woman's back as she strides elegantly towards the door, she runs the tip of her tongue thoughtfully between her teeth before attempting to shrug her confusion away.

"I trust you're feeling well enough to be left to fend for yourself, Sheriff?"

The Mayor raises a brow as she reaches the doorway, turning to regard the blonde with an abrupt air of indifference.

"Yeah, I feel fine... I guess I really _must've_ slipped or something... "

The Sheriff's brow creases as she inwardly finds herself doubting this explanation, but it is the only one she has, and so she merely lets her expression soften and shoots the brunette a friendly smile.

"It's all good!"

"I'm glad... Well, farewell, my dear."

"See you."

Regina offers a curt nod before disappearing into the hallway where she pauses a moment to collect her thoughts. Running a hand distractedly over her brow, she tries to battle away the odd sense of grief which still lingers. Grief... And hurt.

She scolds herself for it.

_You are a fool. You know full well that the Sheriff is- at best- emotionally stunted, and really, what did you expect? That she would somehow grasp the magnitude of what could have happened? That she should possess the same hateful smoldering cauldron of emotions you currently find yourself in possession of? Stop this. Emma lives. That should suffice._

_Yes, but she_ shouldn't _. It shouldn't be possible. Not without-_

"Enough!"

The Mayor mutters angrily; storming down the hall and to her car. She catches a glimpse of black paint marring obnoxious yellow as she settles behind the wheel and sighs. She briefly contemplates getting back out of her Benz to try and erase the accusatory scrape, but eventually decides against it.

She doubts the blonde will notice it anyway.

* * *

Strolling leisurely along the sidewalk, Emma sips appreciatively at the sweet concoction pleasantly numbing her hand. She is no doctor, but she imagines that if she _were_ to ask a member of the profession, they would agree a root beer float to _absolutely_ be the best medicine to ward off any further fainting spells.

"Hey! Kid! Henry!"

She yells cheerfully as she spots the boy's small form up ahead. Henry turns quickly, peering about before spotting the blonde and breaking into a wide grin. She jogs a little to catch up with him before falling neatly into step as he proceeds to walk on.

"Emma! What are you doing? Don't you have work?"

"Yeah, but I took a break to get provisions."

She shakes the large plastic cup from the Diner to emphasize her point, before offering it to the young brunet as he extends a small hand in eager request.

"Are you headed home?"

"Nah, I have a session with Archie."

Henry smiles and hands the blonde back her drink as they near the station. Glancing at her curiously as she continues past the logical cut-through point in favour of remaining at his side, he stops and regards her inquisitively.

"Did you want something else, Emma?"

"Huh... Oh, no, I was just thinking..."

She frowns, inwardly a little offended at his apparent dismissal although she knows she shouldn't be.

"Okay...?"

"Well, have a good session, kid. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Uhuh, I want to show you something in my book!"

"Henry..."

"No, it's really important! I swear!"

"Okay, well, we'll look at it tomorrow then."

Henry beams, hurrying off up the street with a brief wave and a yelled goodbye. Emma grins and turns back to the station, tossing her empty soda cup in the trashcan outside.

_"Did you want something else?"_

She pauses with her hand on the door, brow furrowing. With a sigh she enters the building, she trudges down the hall to her office as the reasoning behind the brunette's abrupt departure dawns on her slowly.

 _Oh, come on, it was a fucking legitimate question! It's hardly_ my _fault she took it so personally._

_What... Like you took it personally when Henry asked you the very same thing, you mean?_

"Fuck."

Rolling her eyes and collapsing into her chair, she stares moodily at the bars that line the opposite wall. She supposes she can understand how her question may have been misconstrued. She recalls the Mayor's evident distress when she had regained consciousness; the image of Regina crying- actually _crying_ \- filling her with a heavy sense of unease which borders on guilt.

The brunette had shown her an uncharacteristically overt display of kindness.

And she... Well, she had fucked her, before basically enquiring- however indirectly- what the hell she was still hanging around for.

"Goddammit, Swan, you're an asshole."

Blowing air up at the stray curls that fall over her forehead, she drums her fingers pensively on her desk before giving in to better instinct and reaching for her bag. Rummaging through her collective crap, she finally finds what she's looking for and pulls it out with a sigh.

* * *

_shrrkkk_

_shrkkk_

Regina frowns as she cocks her head to the side, placing the book she reads carefully on her lap and listening intently to the silence that fills her bedroom. After a moment's pause, she picks up the faint crackling once more. With her frown deepening, she climbs from her bed and wanders out into the hall to investigate.

By the time she is halfway to Henry's room, she has guessed the source of the curious humming. Sighing, and pushing open his bedroom door, she spies the accusatory item easily. Stalking over to her son's nightstand, she regards the walkie with a raised brow; unsure how to proceed. At a loss of whether to simply ignore the insistent crackling as a small red light on the side of the phone indicates an attempt at communication, or whether to answer it and berate the Sheriff for using it in the first place, she hesitantly depresses the button on the front which lets the user of its twin know their call is being received.

_Well, if nothing else, it should be interesting to see how long she rambles on thinking it's Henry before running out of insipid crude slang and nonsense._

"Regina?"

The brunette jerks away from the walkie; startled. She battles down the childish urge to peer out through the window or beneath the bed, opting instead to simply eye the phone warily.

"Regina, I know that's you..."

Perching hesitantly on her son's bed, the brunette picks up the walkie and depresses the second button on its side which allows her to communicate.

"Miss Swan... What on earth...?"

"Hey! I... Umm... Crap..."

She frowns as she makes out the Sheriff's low muttering- presumably to herself- and waits impatiently for the blonde to regain at least a token of eloquence.

"I... I don't think I _do_ feel very well actually..."

"Really? Are you serious? What's wrong? Miss Swan, you should call Dr Whale if you-"

"Ugh... No..."

"What?... What do you mean 'no'?"

"I... don-"

Regina's brow furrows deeper as the line crackles with static; struggling to make out the blonde's words.

"I can't hear you, you're breaking up. Are you seriously feeling sick?... Emma?... Ok, I'm coming down to the station..."

"No, no!... No, I... I think I'm ok for now... I just... Well... Maybe I shouldn't be, umm, left alone _later_... You know... Because of what happened earlier... Mary Margaret's out tonight, and... Well... I'm not sure if it's... If it's such a great idea..."

Finally cottoning on, the brunette's lips form a slow smirk as she can practically _feel_ Emma cringing through her stumbled excuses through the phone.

_Smooth, dear. Real smooth._

Feeling her cheeks flush slightly, she adopts a neutral tone and replies silkily.

"No, you're probably right... It seems _completely_ logical that you should manage absolutely fine by yourself for the next few hours, and then suddenly require assistance later tonight...When Henry's in bed... At my place...At, say, nine o' clock?"

"Well, if you think it's best, then I'm not going to argue with you."

"...I'll see you tonight, Miss Swan."

"If you insist. Over and out."

Rolling her eyes as she disconnects the call, Regina makes her way back to her room to finish the chapter of her book. She tries, but fails, to wipe a small grin off her face.


	35. Chapter 35

Regina frowns as she stares at herself in the mirror. Everything about her reflection is perfect... And there in lies the problem.

Olive skin glows smoothly in the flattering light of her bedside angle-poise lamp; the ornate silver device offering a subtle tone of illumination she finds greatly preferable to the clumsy white spill of the overheads. She sways slightly; drinking in the way her minute movements cause her soft flesh to flex and ripple.

She has always been proud of her body, and ponders curiously as she indulges in her reflective voyeurism how perfectly conflicting her own build is to that of the blonde's; a visual representation to their relationship. Where the Sheriff is hard and toned- long limbs sinewy yet lissom- she is soft and small. A perfect representation of femininity.

Such a shame then, to conceal herself beneath the prison of her wardrobe.

Smirking at herself in the mirror- full lips eagerly beseeching their owner for scarlet paint- she tosses back soft, glossy locks and supposes such annoyances will have to be put up with. For the time being.

Stalking over to the grand dresser beside the bay window, she pulls open its top drawer and selects a set of pure white lingerie; its daring cut and delicate lace a misleading contrast to the virginal hue. Inspecting the way the expensive material moulds lovingly to her slender frame, she frowns once more as her problem still remains.

What to wear.

She is unsure exactly what tonight 'is'. Her heart has been fluttering irksomely in her chest ever since the Sheriff had disconnected their peculiar conversation on the walkies, and, while she has spent an alarming amount of time in the blonde's presence over the past few weeks, this has done little to help her know what to expect.

_You are an enigma, Miss Swan._

She is unable to say whether the troublesome younger woman will show up wearing her water-soiled shirt from earlier, a clean version of the same distasteful combination, or that beautiful black dress which had felt so pleasing beneath her finger tips...

She doubts Emma will wear the dress. Not after what happened last time.

Guilt.

Again with that horrible feeling of guilt.

Her words.

Her actions.

The blonde collapsed motionless on the dirt-ridden, flooded floor of the Sheriff's station.

Dead. Or as good as it.

Closing her eyes and pushing these thoughts away for what seems like the hundredth time since returning home, she pulls out the second drawer to her dresser and takes out a silken black shirt. The same shirt, she realizes, that Henry had bestowed upon Emma a couple of months ago.

"Of _course_ it would be."

She sighs, but she pulls the delicate material over her supple frame gracefully, a sharp gleam present in her dark eyes as she muses that the shirt's fit supports her earlier thoughts as to the contrast between her figure and the blonde's perfectly; what had looked awkward and somehow wrong on the Sheriff, fits her own form in a most flattering fashion.

Selecting a pair of crisp, white tailored pants, she slips them on and tucks in her shirt neatly. Stepping into her favored pair of black heels- favored, but rarely worn; their higher and narrower heel making them impractical to wear out into town- she smiles at her reflection appreciatively.

Taking a seat at her strictly organized vanity, she begins the slow and methodical task of applying her makeup; deciding that she may as well put in a little extra effort for tonight.

_Again with that! What is tonight? What do you want?_

She sighs as she brushes delicate rouge over the apples of her cheeks. She has no answer to her own question. Not really.

_To take the Sheriff to bed._

Well, yes, there's that.

Her turbulent thoughts since her near-fatal mistake and the troubling revelations that have come to light as a result have had the image churning in the back alley of her mind restlessly.

In the beginning, when they had gone their fevered, exhausted rounds in the darkening grandeur of her drawing room, their actions had held within them the bitter note of hate. That hate had turned into a feral display of sexual rivalry, which in turn had turned into a confused concoction of begrudging affection laced with hostility.

Then those damning papers.

And more hate.

Hate so deep it had been painful.

And now... Now the brunette muses she is a little unsure just how to feel about the Sheriff. The younger woman has plagued her thoughts relentlessly for the best part of two weeks, and she finds her heart growing fuller and beating faster because of it. She is not too stubborn to admit that she cares for the blonde; this being less an _admission_ than it is a simple discovery. There had been no pretense- no ploy- behind the tears shed earlier today. True, many were the product of guilt, but she is wise enough to know that some were the simple consequence of finding Emma in her terrifying state.

Of viewing the younger woman hurt and alone.

Of strong, pale limbs seeming suddenly broken and fragile.

She cares for the troublesome Sheriff, however unwise this impulse may be, and she is beginning to imagine she may not just lust for her, but perhaps _like_ her too.

"Let's not get carried away..."

Oh, but surely if this was a simple case of post-trauma shock causing her to care combined with the obvious lust she bestows on the blonde, she wouldn't find herself so frustrated at the way their meetings invariably begin and conclude with such carnal violence. Surely she wouldn't find herself accosted by images of long blonde hair fanning over her pillow, and of flesh- not wet, not needy- but vital and soft beneath her fingertips.

It has been a long time since she has simply shared a drink and made love.

_Ironically, within the past twenty-eight years, the only two times this has come close to happening- and with none of the sensual romance one would hope for in such a setting, for which I am partially to blame- it has been with the young woman in question. Other than that... Not since..._

"Daniel..."

The Mayor frowns as she touches up the final coat to her lipstick.

_Can Daniel and Emma really be compared in such a way? In any way at all?_

She banishes the thought. The fact that she is able to complete such musings without a tinge of anger or resentment tells her more than she wishes to know.

"Just one night. One night of not being at each other's throats."

_One night to try and rid myself of the image of how she looked on the Station floor. To try and make up for thinking the worst, when... One night without hate. Without it being about Henry, Snow, Ruby, Charming, the fucking Savior... Just... Nice..._

She sighs.

Of course the Sheriff might well have _other_ ideas.


	36. Chapter 36

"You're late."

Emma sighs. She hasn't worn a watch since she was seventeen and so has no way of knowing whether the Mayor's accusation rings true.

"And you don't look sick."

Regina admonishes with a raised brow, but she is already moving aside to let the Sheriff enter the grand hall to her mansion. Her critical stare softens a little as she watches the blonde check her boots- black, sleek, not a pair the brunette has seen before- for mud, before deeming them to be clean enough to wear inside. With a slow smile, she beckons the younger woman into the drawing room where she has already built up a fire to roaring.

"I guess I'm feeling better..."

"I see... Well, they do say that you can never be too careful, Miss Swan."

"Umm, I guess they do..."

Emma follows Regina over to the twin sofas that sit by the hearth with a mixed sense of anticipation and apprehension. She feels oddly shy in the face of the arranged formality of their evening, and runs her finger over the seam of the couch thoughtfully as the brunette goes about searching the narrow drawer of her liquor cabinet for a bottle opener. The heavy silence which accompanies the darker woman's search has the Sheriff clearing her throat while she struggles with her own stubborn nature to try and hold a regular conversation.

"You look very nice."

The Mayor turns round to regard her guest in surprise- casual compliments free of innuendo not something she'd thought the blonde had in her- and glances down at her attire thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Miss Swan... As do you."

Regina watches with interest as the Sheriff blushes lightly and stares awkwardly down at her knees. She had actually been being entirely sincere; Emma's attire refreshingly flattering, despite still falling in line with her general 'not to be fucked with' uniform way of dressing. She rests her gaze for just a moment longer on tight black jeans, a deep scarlet shirt and the cropped black leather jacket she recognizes to be the one the Sheriff had lent her to make her way home in, before going back to searching the contents of the drawer. She wonders what the blonde sees when she looks in the mirror; her tendency to blush and look uncomfortable when complimented in a way devoid of any sexual connotation most perplexing. She supposes she could ask her, but she knows she won't.

Locating the corkscrew and opening a dark glassed bottle of wine with an audible pop, the brunette pours the intense red merlot into a delicate crystal glass. Turning to Emma, she offers her a polite smile- the perfect hostess- before making her way over to the door.

"Excuse me a moment."

The Sheriff nods, unsure what to expect. She eyes the singular glass of wine that rests atop the liquor cabinet curiously; subconsciously wetting her lips with her tongue.

Oh hell, but she could use a drink.

Deciding to simply wait and find out why Regina has poured just the one glass, she shrugs off her jacket and shimmies a few inches closer to the enticing warmth of the fire. So many aspects of this evening are disarmingly reminiscent of their previous escapades in this room, but she muses upon the tangible fact that something is also encouragingly different. Things seem more relaxed somehow. Nerve-wrackingly 'date-like'... But relaxed just the same.

"Sorry, I thought I had everything ready..."

Regina stalks back into view, a small bucket with what sounds like ice in her hand as she makes her way back over to the liquorr cabinet. Emma marvels over how this lack of organization seems to have left the brunette peculiarly flustered; dark eyes downcast as the Mayor fusses with a few segments of lime before opening the cabinet doors and taking out a highball glass and a bottle of what the blonde recognizes instantly as Jack Daniels.

 _Regina_ marvels over the fact that the pretty red shirt the blonde wears turns out to be sleeveless and slightly sheer.

Filling the highball with ice, the brunette splashes over a healthy dose of bourbon; the potent amber hissing and crackling as it hits the frozen cubes. She places a wedge of lime on the side of the glass, almost certain the blonde is grinning at the action, but she supposes there's no way she can know for sure as Emma sits behind her. Taking the whisky and wine over to the table, she hands Emma the highball and takes a seat opposite her, indulging herself in a deep sip of merlot before licking it delicately from her lips.

"I wasn't sure what brand you preferred..."

"Oh, I'm not particularly loyal; I'll drink just about anything."

The blonde grins, but her tone carries a touch of seriousness and her eyes convey an understanding of the fact that the Mayor has gone to the effort of trying to please her. She is a little surprised the brunette seems to have remembered what she had told her about preferring whisky to wine, and smiles accordingly. Regina smirks back at her, but humor twinkles in dark, hooded eyes.

" _That_ hardly comes as a surprise, Miss Swan..."

Emma scowls in response, but her lips remain tellingly raised at the corners. Shaking out her long hair, she regards the brunette seriously as she takes a sip of the pleasantly potent liquid in her hand.

"I never did thank you, did I?"

"What for?"

"Earlier...You-"

"-I did nothing for which you need to thank me, dear..."

Regina stares into the dark liquid that pools in her glass thoughtfully; avoiding the Sheriff's green stare for fear that the younger woman will be able to see right past her eyes and into her soul. For fear that she might find out...Well... Everything.

"You were kind to me... Not for the first time either..."

"Your surprise at this is _truly_ flattering."

"You know what I mean... You didn't have to stay and make sure I was okay like you did..."

"Well, dear, it's not as if I wasn't rewarded for doing so..."

She swiftly camouflages the slight bitterness from her tone.

"I guess... I'm sorry about that..."

"Sorry about what?"

Shapely brows arch curiously as the brunette glances up to find the younger woman's gaze. Emma drops her eyes to her knees once more, cheeks pinkening as her brow furrows.

"For being so... Persistent... I didn't really know how to deal with you being so nice to me, and I was worried I'd made things weird by asking questions, and I... I wanted to thank you, I guess, and I'm not too good at doing that with words..."

"Remind me to hold you in my debt more often!"

Regina laughs huskily; studying the younger woman as she stumbles over her words and her blush deepens. The Sheriff's eyes flash with irritation, but the brunette is sure such feelings are self-directed, and she watches as the blonde quickly knocks back the remaining bourbon in her glass. Staring into the empty void pensively, Emma carries on in a tone so low the Mayor has to struggle to make out her words.

"I shouldn't have done it... And I shouldn't have made it sound like I wanted you gone afterwards... Sometimes I'm just not-"

"-Stop it."

Regina gets up and takes a seat beside the blonde; her insides aching a little at the anguish in the younger woman's voice.

"You did nothing wrong, Emma."

"But you... Did you even _want_ to?"

"Are you _seriously_ even bothering to ask me that? Of course I did... Why, do you think I would have let you if I _didn't_?!"

"No, but I..."

"I just didn't want things to go as fast as they were going."

"...Sorry..."

"I didn't want them to go that _fast_ , you stupid girl, because I didn't want them to be _finished_ so soon!... You did nothing wrong."

The brunette studies the blonde's reaction awkwardly, inwardly a little shocked at the ease of her admission. Clearly she isn't alone, as the Sheriff looks up at her slowly; bright eyes wary as though she is readying herself for the punchline of some ill-meaning joke.

_Not this time._

Regina leans forwards slowly, her intent clear but her actions slow and controlled. Dark eyes forbid the younger woman from dropping her gaze, as she brings a gentle hand to a pale cheek and closes the gap between the blonde's lips and her own. For a long time, she offers just the gentlest of brushes over the Sheriff's waiting mouth, humming appreciatively when the younger woman kisses back but makes no further move to speed things along.

With her hand still cupped to the blonde's face, the brunette buries the other within thick, honey-scented hair, moving so that she sits a little closer and letting out a small noise of approval when slim fingers find her sides and play maddening patterns across her ribs. She deepens their kiss, privately musing on just how fully in favor she is of Emma's poison of choice now that the tang of the whisky touches her own tongue; the blonde's still oddly cool from the ice.

_Poison of choice...Interesting choice of phrase there, don't you think?_

She groans inwardly, begging her internal monologue to just stop and let her have this. To let her enjoy the vital warmth that thrums from the body beneath her fingertips.

She loses her train of thought when the blonde tentatively offers up her bottom lip; allowing sharp teeth to scrape over the sensitive flesh. Regina moves her hand from the Sheriff's cheek to her chin, holding her carefully in place as she gently takes her lip between her teeth and applies just the slightest amount of pressure.

Strong fingers find her waist.

"Wait."

Emma pulls back instantly, taking her lip between her own teeth now in a strikingly different fashion and chewing nervously. The brunette watches this curiously, regarding the Sheriff reflectively and feeling as though her entire being is engulfed with fire. When she continues, her voice is low and steady, but she inwardly suffers with her own bitter nerves.

_What if she says no?_

"Take your drink. You can take the bottle if you like... I'd like to go upstairs... To my room."

She doesn't _think_ the blonde will protest, but she knows Emma well enough to be aware that intimacy is not something she is particularly comfortable with. There is a small chance- a very small chance, but a hateful one- that the Sheriff will simply refuse, or, more likely, stammer her way through another excuse so that she can escape such a vulnerable situation.

"Lead the way."

Emma pushes herself up and grabs the Jack Daniel's bottle between slim fingers. She reaches for the wine the brunette has been drinking as well, but Regina shakes her head and taps her fingers gently away. After experiencing the bitter-sweet taste of the bourbon on the blonde's tongue, she sees no way that delicious burn can be beaten. Giving the younger woman one last lingering kiss as the Sheriff holds the whisky bottle carefully out to the side, the Mayor hesitates for only a moment, before she laces her fingers between Emma's and leads her silently out into the hall and to the stairs.

She waits tensely for the blonde to pull her hand away.

She can almost _taste_ the discomfort emanating from the other woman.

She almost lets go herself, deciding not to push the Sheriff too far, too fast.

As she loosens her fingers, they are grasped more firmly in a silent request that she keeps them as they are.

Smiling secretively into the darkness that paints the hall, she renews her hold and pulls the Sheriff slowly to her room.


	37. Chapter 37

"So..."

Emma stands awkwardly with her back lent against the brunette's closed bedroom door. Regina quells the urge to roll her eyes at the Sheriff's seemingly innate inability to avoid tainting a moment with the use of her damn graceless, monosyllabic stammering, and instead just takes a seat patiently atop the plush covers of her bed. She doesn't push for the blonde to come over and join her- knowing that inevitably she will- for she imagines that with enduring such small annoyances comes great reward.

"So."

The brunette smiles softly at the Sheriff, watching the younger woman as she lets her gaze flicker inquisitively about the grand bedroom. Eventually, Emma ceases her mental cataloging and focuses her attention on the Mayor.

"Your room is so _fancy_...It's nice..."

_And again with that clumsy rambling; A romantic soliloquy by Emma Swan, ladies and gentlemen._

"Thank you, I spent a lot of time working on the decor of the house."

 _Really, we're going to talk about interior design_ now _?_

"You did all this yourself?"

_Ok, apparently we are..._

"I like to work with aesthetics; it was a very enjoyable project."

"...You like to surround yourself with pretty things..."

A small smirk touches Regina's lips as she nods in response to the Sheriff's words, dark eyes glittering as she watches the blonde avert her gaze and finger distractedly at the material of her shirt; the rosy petal of her bottom lip once more pulled nervously between sharp teeth as her cheeks blush lightly. Waiting for the Sheriff to look back at her once again, the brunette runs a finger over her own lip thoughtfully.

"I do... You add a nice touch to the room, dear."

Emma's blush deepens as she rolls her eyes and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans; thoroughly uncomfortable. Emerald orbs finally adopting a playful glint, she skims over her awkwardness with a patent blend of sarcasm.

"I'm not so sure that's strictly true; I think I actually clash quite terribly with your subdued color scheme."

She gestures at her clothes with a smile; scarlet shirt and sinfully tight black jeans standing out in vivid relief next to the muted creams that grace the room.

_What I wouldn't do for the name of the person who designed those jeans... I would take the opportunity to thank them personally._

"Perhaps you're right... It's a good thing there's a simple solution..."

"Oh?"

Emma raises a brow at the brunette's coy insinuation as a smirk graces her lips. Finally pushing herself from the hard wood of the door, she stalks closer to the bed; eyes darkening alarmingly as her pupils blow out. Regina suppresses a shiver as she watches green become tainted black, and takes the blonde's hand and pulls her to the bed.

After all; she is still running this show.

"All in good time, Miss Swan."

Slender fingers find the Sheriff's shoulders as dark lips brush softly over Emma's slightly parted mouth. Shimmying herself a little further towards the centre of the bed, the Mayor momentarily debates removing her heels, but decides to leave them on. She pulls the blonde with her so that they rest alongside one another, offering the younger woman a secretive grin before leaning over her; the intensity of her stare silently forcing the Sheriff to lie slowly back onto the bed.

Again, Regina gently deters the blonde's wandering hands as they begin to make light work of the clasp to her pants; lacing her fingers within Emma's and moving their hands to rest next to the Sheriff's head. She deepens her assault on the younger woman's mouth in a silent request for her patience; dipping her tongue sweetly between parted lips and earning a low hum. Moving so that her leg rests between the blonde's, she gently runs her hand beneath the devilish scarlet of her shirt and rests it on the warm flesh of the younger woman's stomach; her thumb stroking lightly at the base of her ribs.

The blonde runs her fingers up and down the Mayor's back, gliding them easily over soft silk. Tiring of such repetitive actions, she trails her left hand a little lower; running her finger between the folds of the brunette's shirt and her dress pants, before she loses her inward battle with her manners and moves swiftly to goose the older woman so that she jumps in surprise. Dark eyes glittering, Regina pushes herself up so as to better glare down at the blonde. She smirks, tickling the Sheriff's ribs beneath her shirt.

"Pervert."

"Definitely."

The Mayor chuckles, releasing her hold of the blonde's hand in order to run her fingers playfully through luscious curls as she nips at the younger woman's tongue. Wriggling a little so that Emma's hipbone will stop poking her in the stomach, she nestles herself so that both of her legs now rest between the Sheriff's, the weight of her upper body pressing down pleasantly on the blonde's.

"Hmm... the Sheriff's a pervert... I wonder if something should be done about that..."

"She'll probably get away with it; I hear she's fucking the Mayor."

"And crass language, too! Oh!... You're lucky you can get by on that pretty face, Miss Swan!"

"Uhuh; me and my feminine wiles!"

"You wouldn't know a feminine wile if it hit you!"

Regina laughs as Emma huffs at her childishly; eyes sparkling as she watches the blonde's struggle to keep from breaking into a grin.

"I know _you_ have them..."

The younger woman argues, and the brunette raises an eyebrow and adopts a salacious smirk as she leans forwards; her lips hovering tantalizingly over the Sheriff's.

"Nice recovery, dear."

The blonde rolls her eyes, but returns to running her finger along the waistband of the Mayor's dress pants, slowly teasing out the silken material of her shirt in search for bare flesh. Regina lowers her lips to the younger woman's jaw as the latter deftly liberates the small of her back to the seemingly cool air; her index finger now playing over the delicate lace of the brunette's underwear.

As she starts a wet trail down the blonde's neck, the Mayor pulls back slowly, a frown crossing her delicate features. Removing her hand from the hot flesh at the Sheriff's ribs, she touches her finger gently to the angry purple mark at the younger woman's throat; previously hidden by her hair. Emma shudders, her breath catching in her chest, but moves her head gently back to allow better access to the bite mark that flushes lividly against her creamy complexion; a remnant of the brunette's anger the day before last.

_I'm sorry._

Pressing her lips gently to the bruise, Regina holds herself there- breathing in the blonde's scent with her eyes clamped shut as she tries to block out memories of what her anger had caused her to do- until the blonde brings up her hand and cups the Mayor's head closer to her still. Interpreting the Sheriff's wishes, the brunette parts her lips slightly to suck at the livid mark, increasing the pressure as the younger woman stiffens in a bizarre combination of pleasure and pain beneath her.

She remains careful to refrain from letting her teeth touch aching flesh.

Running her hand back beneath Emma's shirt and splaying her fingers appreciatively over the hard plane of her stomach, Regina pulls back, finding the blonde's eyes for a moment, before inspecting the mark which glistens slightly from the wetness of her tongue.

She feels only a minute pang of guilt. Any shame in her earlier actions is swiftly overshadowed with a new thought. A possessive thought.

_Mine._

Smiling, she sits up- her backside resting on her heels- and runs her fingers teasingly over the Sheriff's jean-clad thighs as Emma pushes herself up onto her elbows and waits for a sign as to what should happen next. Regina licks her lips before trailing her hands higher up the blonde's legs until they rest at her hips; fingers working slowly at the brass button to the younger woman's jeans.

Pulling down the tight denim, the Mayor raises a brow so high it is in danger of disappearing into her hairline as she drinks in the sight revealed before staring up at the blonde incredulously.

"No underwear?"

Emma shrugs, lifting her ass a little off the bed to help the brunette pull her jeans off.

"They're tight jeans, you can only really wear them with a g-string."

"So you thought... Why bother at all!?"

"Pretty much."

"...Do you do that often?"

The blonde lets out a low chuckle as she picks up on the genuine curiosity in the Mayor's rich voice. Regarding the older woman with a smirk, she cocks her head to the side as though giving the question some serious thought before divulging deviously.

"Every now and then..."

"Do you... When you're working?"

"Why? Is that something _else_ the Sheriff shouldn't do?"

"Well, I'd imagine the Sheriff's lingerie situation is her own business... I'm just always going to be _wondering_ now..."

"I guess you'll just have to make a habit of checking for yourself, then."

The brunette studies the Sheriff intently; surprised at the younger woman's bold suggestion. Smirking, she pulls the blonde's jeans all the way off- along with her boots and socks- before crawling back up her lithe frame to find her lips, one finger dancing teasingly across the sensitive skin at the Sheriff's apex.

"Don't be a tease, dear."

"Says you..."

Emma's reply is notably husky and the brunette grins against her mouth as she slips her finger easily into the blonde's warmth and applies a little more pressure and speed to her movements.

"Regina..."

"Hmmm?"

The Mayor raises an eyebrow as if completely unaware of what the blonde could possible want; letting out a soft laugh at the irritation written all over the younger woman's face. Cupping the Sheriff's thighs and pushing at them gently, she watches appreciatively as Emma spreads her legs wider; delicate lines of muscle visible beneath soft flesh. Moving down the bed slowly, her intention clear, she glances back up at the blonde warningly.

"No screaming; Henry's down the hall."

"Isn't that a little presumptuous of you?"

"It's not presumptuous when I know I'm capable..."

"...Is that a threat?"

"No, Miss Swan, not a threat; a promise."

And with that- and an accompanying smirk- the brunette dips her head, running her tongue over the soft flesh of the Sheriff's inner thighs. She stops every now and then to bite playfully at pale skin; delighting in the small noises this elicits from the blonde. Dipping her fingers back into the younger woman's entrance, she brings up her tongue to lick away any spilt excitement before replacing her fingers entirely.

Her ministrations are slow, taking time to touch, feel and taste, as the Sheriff begins to writhe above her. Placing her hand firmly over the blonde's stomach, Regina keeps her in place as Emma's breathing becomes audibly ragged.

Glancing up- reinitiating her fingers- she feels her own warmth begin to pool as she watches the Sheriff's hands fist tightly into silk of her bed throw; eyes shut and lips parted. Frowning as her eyes trail down to the scarlet shirt that still covers the younger woman's abdomen, the Mayor tries to fiddle with the small buttons one-handed, before giving up with a snarl and simply pushing the gauzy fabric up over her stomach. Emma cracks open her lids and looks down distractedly; realizing the issue and unbuttoning the garment herself, letting scarlet wings drape down to her sides to reveal pale skin and a simple black bra.

"Exquisite..."

Regina runs her free hand playfully over toned flesh, before silently awarding the younger woman a substantial amount of points upon realizing she wears a bra which hooks at the front. Unclasping it deftly, she lets her fingers wander ever more sensitive flesh as the blonde begins letting out low, whispered curses and biting her lip.

Trailing her finger down to the Sheriff's ribcage, the brunette traces the jagged scar there gently, leaning forwards to hover her mouth beside the blonde's ear as she keeps her ministrations steady.

"What happened?"

"H-huh?!"

"Your scar, what happened?"

"I...I- _Ah_ \- was drunk..."

"Did you get in a fight?"

"No... I- _fuck_ \- I did it..."

"You... You did this to yourself? I thought... I thought you said in jail..."

"N-no... I was fucked off with you... Playing- _shit_ \- you with the letter... Letter opener... B-better story..."

" _You_ did this... _Why_?"

"Why- _Ah_ \- Why not?"

Regina frowns; turning her head to study the Sheriff's features but is rewarded only with sooty lashes and hitched breathing.

_Why not?_

There are so many questions she longs to ask the younger woman as to that statement, but she imagines Emma has already told her more than she would have had her mind not been preoccupied with pleasure. She decides to save her questions for a time when the answers will be less raw and more understandable.

She decides to respect the Sheriff's compromised privacy.

She decides to put Emma's interests before her own.

Sucking quickly at the dark mark at the blonde's neck, the Mayor moves back down her quivering body to assault hot flesh with her tongue once more. Increasing her carnal attention considerably, she smiles as strong thighs clamp abruptly around her as the Sheriff bites down hard on the back of her hand to stifle a scream.

"Fuck..."

Regina laughs huskily as she sits up and watches the blonde try to regulate her breathing; a slim arm thrown dramatically over her eyes. She slides back up the Sheriff's body gently, playing her fingers absently-mindedly over the flushed peak of her breast as she waits for her to remove her arm from her face.

"That good was it, dear?"

Emma grins, gingerly lowering her arm to regard the brunette with blown eyes. She regards the Mayor intently- green eyes captivated by brown- before she leans forwards to taste herself on the darker woman's lips. Closing her eyes and deepening the kiss, she grips at the brunette's waist firmly and rolls them over with surprising ease.

Straddling the Mayor, the blonde stares down at her with unbridled affection, before recapturing scarlet lips and humming softly. Regina shivers; tracing her fingers gently over the bare flesh of the Sheriff's thighs.

"I can't complain."

The blonde laughs as the older woman rolls her eyes irritably, working her fingers swiftly down the buttons to the brunette's shirt and peeling it aside. Regarding the delicate white bra she uncovers, the Sheriff leans forwards playfully to tease at the sensitive covered flesh with her tongue.

"God..."

"Nope, just me..."

Regina sighs, swatting at the younger woman's thigh lightly in the hopes she'll shut the hell up.

_Well, no, not really..._

Emma pushes herself back up, wriggling a little in her position splayed across the brunette's lap- the action earning her a low groan- as she leans over towards the nightstand to retrieve the bottle of Jack she'd brought up with them. Unscrewing the cap and taking an indulgent swallow, she glances down at the Mayor who watches her with hungry eyes. Grinning a little as she keeps the bottle pressed to her lips, the blonde takes a delicate nip of the sharp amber nectar before replacing the bottle on the nightstand. She leans forward once more, this time pressing her lips to Regina's, allowing the warmed liquor to slip maddeningly onto the brunette's tongue.

The Mayor delves her fingers into thick curls, holding the Sheriff in place as she explores the sweet yet sinful taste which burns within the younger woman's mouth. Finally, when the bourbon exists as just a lingering afterthought, she allows Emma to sit back up and move herself agily down the bed so that she kneels between gently splayed legs.

The blonde turns her attention back to the Mayor's lace covered chest as she swiftly battles her hand beneath the brunette and unclasps the pretty fabric that stands between herself and her prize. Once the bra has been tossed aside, she lets her mouth roam hotly over newly bared flesh, delighting in the low moans sounding from above her as her hands deftly work the clasp of the brunette's dress pants.

Lifting her hips obediently, Regina groans as the blonde trails her tongue slowly down to the newly exposed stark white fabric that covers her sex and proceeds to taste her through it much the same as she had done with her bra. Running her fingers through long tresses, she keeps her hips raised in hopes of keeping such attentions going; letting out a harsh gasp as teeth scape the sensitive flesh low at her stomach and the blonde drags the white lace slowly downwards.

Pushing the brunette's hips back down into the mattress, Emma grins, fingers fluttering maddeningly over the darker woman's sex as she crawls back up to lie on top of the Mayor. Dipping two fingers slowly deeper into the brunette's wanting wetness, she moves her lips tenderly to Regina's and begs access with her tongue.

The Sheriff's ministrations are leisurely, taking her time to find the exact spots that make the brunette moan into their kiss. She muses vaguely on the thought that, before Regina, kissing was an act she'd had little time for. Now, as the Mayor begins to shudder beneath her and teases her tongue with ever growing vigor, she decides her inhibitions concerning the act may have been rather unfounded.

"Emma... I... I'm-"

The blonde cuts off the Mayor's moaning swiftly; speeding up the pleasurable work with her fingers as she feels the brunette begin to come undone beneath her. She grins when Regina lets out a low cry into her mouth; swallowing up the sound and slowing her fingers gently. Smiling down at her bedmate, she goes about delicately cleaning off her glistening fingers with pink flashes of her tongue.

"Christ..."

"There you go again, you're going to give me some sort of Messiah complex."

Emma grins wickedly, flashing her teeth when the brunette merely shrugs from her leisurely position on the bed.

"A deity you are definitely not, but keep doing that and I'll be forced to worship you."

The blonde raises an eyebrow at the Mayor's uncharacteristically high praise, before pointedly sucking her finger between her lips with a grin. Rolling her eyes, the brunette grabs hold of the younger woman's skinny hips and flips her off so that they lie side by side once more.

A heavy silence follows as Regina pulls the covers up over the two of them. She is halfway through the process of switching off the light to her side when she glances over at the blonde who studies the ceiling awkwardly. Sighing, the Mayor weighs up her options. In all honesty, the thought of whether or not the Sheriff would stay the night had never really crossed her mind. She is exhausted, and basking in the beauty of her after-glow, and, although she is sure this is something that the blonde needs coaxing into, she can't bring herself to do so now.

Moving with decisive speed, she simply switches off the lamp to her side; plunging them into darkness. Snaking her hand blindly beneath the plush covers, she find's the soft flesh of the Sheriff's side and rests her palm comfortably over the pleasant ridge of her hipbone. Sensing the younger woman's almost nauseating tension, she sighs, speaking softly into the darkness.

"Just go to sleep, Emma. It's ok."


	38. Chapter 38

The brunette wakes easily as the pink glow of dawn filters in through the curtains she neglected to close the night before. Keeping her eyes peacefully shut, she becomes slowly aware of the fact that she's naked beneath the luxuriously soft silk of her bedspread. This realization brings with it memories of the previous evening and her lips spread themselves into a satisfied smirk as she sends out nimble fingers on a quest for warm flesh beneath the throw.

Coming up cold and empty, a frown alights her brow and she opens her eyes irritably. At first, taking in the vacant expanse of cream sheets beside her, she forms the conclusion that the blonde has left her at some point in the night. The thought exasperates her, but does not come wholly as a surprise. When her eyes travel up from the deserted sheets however, she notices a sizable lump at the far end of her expansive bed, a tuft of golden curls just visible beneath a fortress of bedding.

_Well, imagine that._

Her smirk widening, she gently plucks at the thick covers; bringing them down curiously to expose the Sheriff as she sleeps. Emma lies curled up in an impossibly tight ball with her back to the Mayor; pale flesh bare and somehow vulnerable. Regina sighs, dark eyes flickering over the blonde's shoulders in a hot trail down to the soft curve of her hip, counting the small bumps of her vertebrae which are visibly pronounced in her curled up position. She is mildly surprised at the Sheriff's style of slumber, having pegged Emma more as one to spread themselves out during sleep, long limbs extended clumsily. She frowns as she contemplates the fact that she has given the blonde's sleeping position any thought at _all_.

Her attention flickers back to the large expanse of no-man's-land between them. She wonders how long it took the Sheriff to finally relax enough to be taken by sleep, vaguely recalling stirring from her own slumber at some point in the early hours and peeking through hooded lids to spy the blonde still lying rigidly in much the same position as when she had turned the lights off.

The younger woman lets out a quiet murmur as she sleeps, causing the Mayor to glance back up and sigh. Her own dreams had been less than pleasant, and she imagines this is one of the reasons she is up so early. With the blonde resting uneasily beside her, the images that had flickered beneath her lids had been hatefully distressing.

_Pie after pie after apple pie._

_Lips pressed hard and bleeding against the Sheriff's, water rising dangerously all around, the sound of the faucet droning on and on._

_No movement from the blonde. No breath. No pulse._

_Rolling over on her desk which was also her bed which was also the cot in the jail cell. Mattress damp and littered with shards from a broken glass. Both naked. One alive. One dead._

_Screaming into confused green eyes over and over._

_Bitch. Bitch. Bitch._

Shuddering, she wriggles surreptitiously a little closer to the younger woman, debating momentarily whether it would be rude to wake her, before deciding she doesn't much care. Running a finger slowly down the blonde's spine, she smirks as the latter lets out her own small shiver before mumbling through the disorientation of her curious position between sleep and waking.

"Mary Ma-? What... Why? Go away, I'll make my own coffee later."

Regina huffs with an irritation she doesn't truly feel; leaning forwards to press her finger none too gently to the angry bite mark at the Sheriff's throat, causing Emma to squirm and kick free of her tidy little ball with groggy anger, pulling the covers swiftly over her head, muffling her indignant cry.

"What the hell?!"

" _What_ did you just call me?"

At the sound of the Mayor's voice, the blonde goes deathly still, frowning slightly, before gradually pulling down the covers to rest at her shoulders and blinking away the last of her slumber. She rolls over slowly, glancing over at the brunette.

"Regina."

"Hmm... Better..."

"...Madame Mayor."

The Sheriff lets the words drip off her tongue like syrup as she closes her eyes again sleepily, causing the brunette to repress yet another shudder; this reaction caused by an entirely different reason to the last. Waiting for the blonde to stir from her dreamy state, Regina pushes herself up a little so that she rests with her shoulders propped up by her pillow. The movement has the younger woman fluttering her lashes once more as the reality of the situation gradually dawns on her. Peering up at the Mayor, she blushes slightly, although her lips form a shy smile which the older woman returns with her own knowing smirk.

"Good morning, Miss Swan."

"Morning..."

Emma yawns, pulling the covers up to cover her mouth, as she muses that it sure as hell doesn't _feel_ like morning. At least, not a time of the morning at which she is usually conscious. Rolling over onto her back she shivers a little as she realizes her bare state when the silk of the bedsheets rustles softly over her exposed flesh. Glancing up at the brunette, she takes in slim, bare shoulders and the swell of her breasts before the creamy silk covers her demurely. Smiling a little, she pulls a hand through her unruly tresses, trying to shoo them away from her face.

"What time is it?"

"About quarter to six."

"Oh god..."

"Madame Mayor will do just fine, dear."

The darker woman quips; mimicking the Sheriff's sarcastic remarks the previous evening. The blonde chuckles, rolling her eyes in the soft pink light that filters through the curtains. The quiet patter of rain is only just audible, and the two women listen to its soothing fall for a short moment. Rolling over onto her side to reach beneath the bed, the Mayor returns with a small bottle of water. Cracking open its virginal seal, she takes a long drink before holding it out to Emma who shakes her head, simply studying the brunette as the covers fall gently down to her hips to reveal her bare torso as she places the bottle on her bedside table.

Regina sighs contently, fully aware of the way bright green eyes flicker hungrily over her exposed flesh and not caring in the slightest. In fact, she arches her back just a little; subtly finding a more sensual position.

"It's only the crack of dawn and already your perverted side is showing, Miss Swan."

Emma rolls her eyes with a grin, before pushing herself up onto her elbow and regarding the brunette with bemusement.

"Seriously, I'm lying here fucking _naked_ in your bed and you're still going to call me by my last name?"

The Mayor licks her lips, enjoying for a moment the words the blonde growls; the simple fact that yes, the Sheriff _is_ lying naked in her bed.

'Fucking naked'.

_Fucked naked._

Groaning inwardly as she suspects some of Emma's crass sense of humor may well be rubbing off on her, Regina smiles wickedly down at the Sheriff.

"It really _bothers_ you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, and I'm guessing that's why you do it?"

"Oh, it's _one_ of the positive side-effects most certainly, dear, but I don't see why it should irk you quite so much."

"Because my name's _Emma?... '_ Miss Swan' is what they called me back in the system."

"Jail?"

"Foster."

"Your _foster_ parents called you Miss Swan?"

"No, of course not, but I didn't live with them for all that long! No, in the foster home."

"...Really?"

"It was sort of like a convent kind of thing; weirdly religious with a bunch of 'fathers' and 'sisters' but not exactly the variety I was after."

"Oh."

The brunette sighs uneasily, trying to figure out if she's pushed the younger woman into sharing, or if she'd done so of her own accord. She tentatively leans towards the latter, however surprised she is by the thought of Emma telling her about such things. Her discomfort abates instantly when the Sheriff smiles easily up at her, before moving with surprising speed and flipping herself up and over to straddle her lap.

"Well good morning to you too, _Miss Swan_."

Regina grins cattily, delighting in the way the blonde hisses irritably and crosses her arms over her bare chest.

"Shut up, _Mayor Mills_."

The brunette grins, leaning forwards to murmur into the Sheriff's ear.

"I know you're trying to get back at me, but, unfortunately for you, dear, it's just hot when you say that..."

The Sheriff growls in frustration, before slipping easily off the Mayor's lap and out of the bed.

"Emma..."

Regina sighs, without _too_ much irritation as she watches the blonde stalk about her room deliciously nude; collecting items of clothing. Leaning back to better appreciate the view, she smirks as the younger woman jumps up and down a few times childishly so as to wrestle her way into the tight black denim of her jeans. Emma scowls at her- but a telling curve pulls at her lips- pulling on the scarlet haze of her shirt and gathering her hair into a messy ponytail.

"I should go..."

The Mayor frowns irritably, pursing her lips in displeasure at the Sheriff's quick return to her frustrating flakey self, but the blonde reassures her swiftly.

"I parked my car just inside the gate incase anyone driving past saw it... If Henry wakes up, he _will_ see it though."

_So stay for breakfast and we say it's strictly business..._

Chasing away such fanciful thoughts with a confused flip of her stomach, the brunette goes for something a little more... Well... A little _less_ romanticized.

"Very well. Henry's alarm is set for seven so he can get ready for school... At least have a shower before you go?"

Emma raises an eyebrow, watching curiously as the Mayor pushes herself gracefully from the bed and makes her way over to her en-suite without a second glance. Shaking her head, she runs a quick finger thoughtfully over her lip, before shrugging as she follows the darker woman into the brightly tiled bathroom.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not that this scene doesn't get a little heated, but if you wanted more of the Convent Girl side to the story, I do also have a short story called 'Role Play' which is a tag on to this fic I never got round to slotting in. It's just a few little smut scenes between these two that occur at some point or other after the conversations had in this chapter. Enjoy that- if interested- and this! :)

The Mayor keeps her back to the Sheriff as the younger woman peeks hesitantly into the room; smiling at her salaciously through her reflection in the grand mirror that overhangs the sink. Running a slender hand slowly down the flat plane of her bare stomach, she tilts her head first one way and then the other as if trying to rid herself of an irritable stiffness, smirking at the way Emma's eyes follow the path of her descending hand reflected in the mirror.

The brunette's wandering fingers disappear from view as the ornate glass only reaches so low as her navel, causing the Sheriff to let out a small sigh before her wide eyes switch to linger on the darker woman's pert buttocks that are most definitely not a reflection, but the real thing. Fantasy made flesh. Stalking slowly up behind Regina, the blonde presses herself flush against the Mayor's bare body, brushing her lips teasingly against the tantalizing column of her slender neck; twin pairs of lustful eyes drinking in the sordid vision they create.

_God damn, but we make an attractive couple._

The older woman smiles inwardly, tilting her head to allow the Sheriff better access to her throat. The blonde applies gentle pressure to her pulse point and the brunette lets out a low groan, resisting her internal instinct to let her eyes slip blissfully closed in favour of watching the younger woman's mouth assault her flesh- pink tongue flickering occasionally into view- as darkened green eyes hold her own predatorily through the glass.

"You're wearing far too many clothes, dear..."

Regina hisses; turning her head to speak directly into the Sheriff's ear. She closes her eyes briefly, trying to chase away the memory of the blonde saying much the same thing when lying on the cot in the jail cell. Fortunately, she seems to be the _only_ one suffering uneasy flashbacks, as Emma simply smirks before taking a step back.

The Mayor swallows the small moan of disappointment that threatens to escape her throat as the younger woman's delectable heat disappears from her wanting flesh.

Turning to face the blonde, Regina raises an eyebrow in haughty amusement as the Sheriff strips herself off with all the dignity and poise of a five year old boy wishing to play in the mud. Chuckling huskily at Emma's ill-hidden eagerness, she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue as her dark eyes dance with carnal mirth.

"My, my... A little eager to get naked for a convent girl, aren't you?"

As soon as the words leave her lips, she regrets them; knowing the Sheriff well enough to suspect she is less than accepting of jokes at the expense of her childhood. Yet again however, Emma surprises her; offering a coy wink as she pulls the elastic from her hair and shakes out her curls in a way that causes the brunette's breath to hitch audibly.

"Well, you know what they say about convent girls..."

Regina lets out a low chuckle, taking a step towards the blonde so that they stand practically nose to pretty nose.

"No... What's that, Miss Swan?"

The Sheriff's salacious smirk lingers a moment longer before it disintegrates into a lopsided grin as she shrugs her bare shoulders amiably.

"Actually, I have no idea... I just hear we feature in porn on a fairly regular basis."

The brunette lets out an unguarded bray of laughter which feels foreign in the air between them, shaking her head as she regards Emma with a raised brow and bemused grin.

"My mind is positively _racing_ with images of you in a little habit, clutching your rosary..."

"I wasn't a fucking _nun_! And it wasn't really a _'convent'_ convent, it was just supported by the local church and we had to attend Sunday school-"

"-Then my mind is racing with images of you struggling to bite your incessant tongue through Sunday school... In a habit... With nothing underneath..."

"My fifteen year old self would be _thrilled_ she was the star of such fantasies!"

The blonde's tongue pokes teasingly from between her teeth and the brunette lunges forwards like lightening to bite at it warningly. Emma lets out a low chuckle, snaking her arm playfully around the brunette's waist as she whispers dangerously into the perfect shell of her ear to counteract the irritation she senses from the Mayor at the insinuation of her inappropriate thoughts.

"And why imagine me naked beneath a robe when you can have the real thing right now?..."

Regina shivers; the Sheriff's breath tickling her cheek as she whispers. Running her hands sensually up the younger woman's back, she drags her nails roughly down the twin blades of her shoulders, garnering both a surprised yelp and the intoxicating sight of eight long, red lines marring perfect skin in the mirror.

"Are you always this crude in the morning?"

"Says the woman who begged me to strip..."

"I don't remember begging..."

"Not verbally maybe... But your eyes... They were all 'yes, Emma, get naked'... You love it..."

"Dear God, how does Miss Blanchard put up with you?"

"Oh, _she_ doesn't want to get me naked."

"Of course _she_ doesn't! She's your... Housemate..."

The brunette hides away her air of disgust, opting instead to find the blonde's lips hungrily. She muses absently-mindedly on the absurd length of time it's been since she's woken up to a lover who has stayed the night through, and how easily she has forgotten the curious arousal that comes from the type of play that exists- inexplicably- only in the morning.

 _Of course_ she _doesn't want you naked. And besides. You're mine._

Finding the Sheriff's narrow hips and using them to steer her backwards into the spacious glass-walled shower stall, she pushes the younger woman up against the wall, letting her tongue dip slyly between obediently parted lips.

She slams her hand out onto the the chrome depressor that starts the shower without warning, readying herself for the inevitably icy spray as the shower gushes forth its initial shuddering bursts; revelling in the absurdly feminine squeal this elicits from the blonde pressed against her.

"Shut up!"

She presses her palm roughly over the younger woman's mouth to muffle her scream, but her dark eyes glitter with good-humor as she studies the wide-eyed shock of the blonde. Already, the water begins to heat up blissfully, but her skin feels deliciously taut and sensitive after its swift icy torture. A glance down at the Sheriff's beautifully tight frame lets her know she's not alone. She is about to voice a salacious comment on the way the blonde's nipples peak delightfully in protest to their attack- and the way her stomach ripples with visible gooseflesh- when Emma subdues her with a wicked stroke of her tongue along the length of the middle finger of the hand still clamped to her lips.

"Ugh!"

The Mayor retracts her hand instantly with a scowl, but neither of them is fooled by the act; the brunette's chest flushing slightly as her eyes dart animalistically over the blonde's pale face. The Sheriff laughs lightly, the sound becoming muffled at the brunette leans closer to push up against her.

"Behave yourself..."

The brunette's stern warning only serves to make the Sheriff laugh harder, spurred on as slender fingers tickle traitorously at her ribs. Her husky giggles cut off quickly however, when Regina strokes her assaulting hand swiftly downwards and dips her fluttering fingers into slick warmth.

"Oh!"

Emma lets out a low gasp, before wandering her own hands easily over to the soft flesh of the Mayor's backside, taking a firm hold on supple cheeks and grinding the darker woman against her; trapping Regina's hand between their water-slick flesh.

"If you bruise me, Sheriff..."

The brunette's tone is dangerous with warning, spoken grittily into the damp skin of the younger woman's throat. She runs her teeth over delicate tendons in reward as strong fingers ease up their hold on her soft flesh instantly. She waits for Emma to complain about double standards- the marks lining her shoulder blades sure to be stinging beneath the hot water- but the blonde only hums appreciatively; head tipped back against the wall with her eyes closed.

"Good girl."

She moves back slightly, reaching down for the amber and orange-blossom shampoo that rests on a small built-in ledge to their side. Squeezing a generous amount of the fragrant suds into her hands, she massages the lather slowly into drenched golden tresses; the weight of the water pulling the younger woman's light curls long and straight.

She feels the Sheriff jerk beneath her ministrations and leans back to regard her curiously, rolling her eyes when Emma squints back at her with a pained grin of bemusement as she scrunches one eye shut against the sting of the shampoo.

"Did it not occur to you to close your eyes?"

"It did... It _also_ occurred to me that when I looked down, your breasts were right in my eye-line..."

The Mayor smirks, brushing the back of her hand gently over the blonde's soapy lashes with a long-suffering sigh. Her breath is cut short when soft lips press hotly against hers.

They remain that way, slowly tasting and feeling as the pounding water gradually rinses the suds from the Sheriff's long hair.

Emma peeks over at the shelf containing the brunette's bath products curiously as a wandering hand comes to rest in the valley between her breasts and sharp teeth pull gently at her bottom lip. Running a finger wickedly through the neat curls between the Mayor's thighs, she steps back to receive an irritated glower.

"I'm not the _only_ one who's dirty, Madame Mayor."

Regina raises an eyebrow; the Sheriff's tone uncharacteristically sugary. The innocent sweetness of her words is hot in itself, but the debauched smirk on kiss-swollen lips cinches the deal. The brunette shivers, watching intently as Emma bends over slowly to survey her bath products at a closer range.

Finally, the blonde selects a small bottle of jasmine scented body wash and hovers it periously over the Mayor's chest. Flipping the cap and squeezing firmly, she empties almost half the bottle in a clear stream of viscous liquid; the cool gel running slowly down pert breasts and the soft flesh of the darker woman's stomach.

"What on earth are you-"

"Shh...Trust me."

Regina frowns, but allows the blonde a chance to clarify her actions. Emma takes a step closer until they once more stand flush with one another, capturing deliciously full lips as she wraps her arms firmly around the brunette. She deepens their kiss, replacing sensual pleasure with erotic passion. Their breathing becomes labored and each begins to writhe against the other as hands begin exploring feverishly and simple touches become wanton ministrations.

As their movements become ever more frantic, the liberal dose of body wash the Sheriff upended onto the darker woman lathers up into a rich cream of exotic scented bubbles that coat flushed skin.

Pulling the Mayor roughly to her- her hand cupped firmly to chocolate tresses- the blonde ravishes the older woman with new vigor as she abruptly slams her palm against wet folds and teases mercifully.

"Oh Christ, Oh, _God_..."

This time Emma refrains from quipping at the brunette for her biblical tinged cries, simply straining to keep the Mayor locked firmly against her as Regina beings to shake in her arms as she tips over into euphoria. The blonde catches her easily, holding her firmly up on her feet as the brunette breathes harshly into the fragile flesh of her collarbone.

"... Shit..."

Regina pushes herself back from the Sheriff gingerly, dark eyes slightly dazed as she stares at the younger woman. Emma smiles knowingly, before letting her eyes travel pointedly over the brunette's flawless body where the cooling water washes away the fragrant suds of her sins.

"You clean up quite nicely..."

"Do shut up."

The Mayor's voice shakes slightly as she struggles to stand of her own accord, however she still manages a fairly convincing roll of her eyes. Clearing her throat, she turns around and shuts off the water which is slowly turning to frigid ice before stepping out the shower. She hands the blonde a towel wordlessly- helping herself to spare from the airing cupboard by the sink- and turns away to dry off. Glancing at the small clock that rests on a shelf of beauty products she sighs defeatedly.

"It's ten to seven, you should-"

"-Yeah, I know."

Regina turns to find the Sheriff pulling on her shirt, catching a brief glimpse of vivid red marks marring the pale flesh of her shoulder blades before they disappear beneath a scarlet haze.

 _I think... I think I will_ always _hurt you in some shape or form..._

Stepping behind Emma and tucking in the label which pokes mischievously out from the blonde's collar, she gives the younger woman a sarcastic pat on the backside, earning herself a bemused roll of twinkling green eyes.

"I better get going."

"I should say so... I imagine I'll see you soon, Miss Sw-... Emma."

"Oh, I imagine you will, Mayor Mills."


	40. Chapter 40

Poking her head cautiously around the door to the apartment, the blonde sighs with relief as the living room appears deserted. She shuffles in quietly- moving with practiced stealth- pulling the door shut behind her with a barely audible click.

"Out 'running'  _again_ , huh?"

" _Fuck_!"

Mary Margaret laughs pleasantly, her eyes twinkling as she regards her housemate who stands with her hands raised in a odd display of combativeness; the effect ruined somewhat by the flash of fear yet to fade from her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me like that?  _Shit_!"

"I didn't 'sneak'! I was looking for something in the cupboard behind the counter... _You're_  the one being 'sneaky'; tip-toeing in... So?"

"... Guess you wouldn't believe me if I told you you were right?"

"Not in a million years!"

"Damn."

The schoolteacher grins as she makes her way over to the small, threadbare sofa that stands in the corner of the open plan living room; placing her peppermint tea on the coffee table in front of her and watching as Emma goes about helping herself to a bowl of fruit loops. She remains quiet, leaning over to retrieve her mug and blowing across the steaming liquid thoughtfully, noting the damp fall of her housemate's hair.

"You're _seriously_  not going to tell me who it is you keep disappearing off to see?"

"Oh, I don't think so..."

The Sheriff flicks her tongue out between her teeth; green eyes shining as she smirks at the raven headed woman. Making her way over to the sofa with her spoon in her mouth, she falls down heavily next to the schoolteacher; her gaudy breakfast sloshing with a threat to spill.

"Oh, come on! I want to _know_! You've been acting suspiciously for the past few  _weeks_!"

"Hmm... Suspicious behavior... You better let the Sheriff know..."

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes amiably, elbowing the blonde softly in the ribs, causing the younger woman to yelp dramatically and choke slightly on her cereal as a result of her theatrics.

"Hey!"

"Whaa-aat? I want to know about your illicit affairs!"

The schoolteacher draws out the last two words salaciously, laughing when the Sheriff throws her a dark scowl.

" _My_  illicit affairs?! I'm sorry, but aren't  _you_ the one dating a  _married_  man?"

Mary Margaret cringes, muttering irritably that she isn't in fact 'dating' Mr Nolan, but rather simply 'spending some quality time with him'. Emma nods sarcastically, propping her feet comfortably up on the coffee table only to have them glared at by her housemate. Mary Margaret offers the blonde a long-suffering sigh when the latter merely raises an eyebrow challengingly, before lifting up the Sheriff's legs and pulling the younger woman so that she sits with them dangling over her lap so as to save her from any scuffs on her coffee table.

"Anyway, who say's I'm doing anything illicit?"

"Hmmm..."

Pale fingers pluck pointedly at sheer red fabric, rosy lips pulled into a knowing smile. Green eyes roll and Emma bats her housemate's teasing fingers away from her shirt.

"So I'm dressed nice, so what?"

The schoolteacher bites back a chuckle as she watches the blonde stare moodily ahead of her; the Sheriff's thorny behavior comically reliable when questioned about anything even remotely personal. Ignoring her housemate's harmless grumbling, the dark haired woman proceeds lightly; her voice carefully free from the laughter that shines in her eyes.

"You best be careful, it'll become a habit!"

"What's  _that_  supposed to mean!? Ugh! You've been talking to Ruby!"

"... That's the second time you've said that... What's Ruby got to do with how you dress suddenly?"

Mary Margaret's brow creases with confused intrigue as the blonde silently reprimands herself for the sudden increase in her heart rate.

 _Of course she doesn't mean it like_ that _. Not like how_ Regina _meant it. She would never even think of it_ that _way in a million years!_

"Nothing... She just... I let her do my makeup the other day..."

"What?!"

The schoolteacher quickly leans over; staring at the Sheriff as though she has turned suddenly green, slender hand resting companionably on the skinny ankle strewn across her lap.

"You let Ruby do your  _makeup_?!"

"Yes..."

A low hiss. Dangerous. Clenched teeth.

"Oh my _God_!"

" _What_?! So I'm wearing something decent?! So I let Ruby do my damn makeup!? What of it?!"

Mary Margaret sighs; Emma's bitching reminding her ever so slightly of the children in her class when having a tantrum. The smile doesn't fade completely from her lips, however.

"Ok, ok, so nothing! I'm done!... You look pretty, though."

"...Thanks."

The blonde huffs irritably, but she glances up at her housemate with a small, pleased grin.

"So..."

"I'm still not telling you."

Emma's composure betrays her- her moody scowl breaking into a good natured smile- as the schoolteacher pouts sulkily; bright eyes wide with pitiful appeal.

"Nope, you can stop looking at me like that; I'm not gonna break!"

"Emma!"

"Hey! Don't whine at me; you said you were done!"

"Fine!... But-"

"-I'm not going to tell you!"

"Ok!... But... Do you... Do you like them?"

"Oh god..."

"Do you?"

"And here I thought I'd left high school thankfully behind-"

"-Oh shush!"

The blonde laughs, regarding the schoolteacher affectionately as the latter glowers down at her mug on the coffee table. Sighing, and resting her hand at her head- pushing back her drying curls- she muses thoughtfully for a while as Mary Margaret tires of her irritable glaring and sips contently at her tea.

"...Yes..."

"Huh?"

"Yes... I like them..."

The schoolteacher opens her mouth in surprise, turning to study the Sheriff curiously as the blonde eyes her warily.

"Really?"

"Yes... I really like them."

"...Wait... 'Yes, you really  _do_  like them', or 'yes, you _really_ like them'?"

"...'Yes. I really do really like them. A lot."

Emma shrugs noncommittally, but her cheeks flush a pale pink and she grins sheepishly when the dark haired woman offers her a cautious smile.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"... And... Do you think they really do really like  _you,_  too?"

"Okay, this is all getting _way_  too sleepover-esque for my liking! I'm out!"

The blonde promptly swings her legs around and slips from the sofa, refusing to look at her housemate as she hurries quickly up the iron staircase to her room to change for work. Mary Margaret grins in bemusement before adopting a small frown.

She hadn't really paid the oddity which now causes her confusion much thought when the Sheriff had joined her on the couch. But now- as the younger woman had jumped hastily up and stalked off- her nostrils flare as she picks up a scent that unsettles her. It bares no resemblence to any of the soaps and lotions she has grown to associate with the blonde. She supposes whomever her housemate is sneaking out to see could have a sister- god, she hopes it's not a _wife_ , although that would provide its own tainted irony given her own position- or housemate in favor of the floral scent that lingers in the air she breathes... Only...

Only there's something curiously familiar to the light, fragrant smell left behind by the blonde.

Something which is inexplicably unnerving.

* * *

" _Ah_!"

Regina sucks her finger into her mouth, wincing as her tongue finds the small nick created by the vegetable knife in her other hand. She glares at the utensil accusingly, retracting her abused finger to inspect the damage. A small bead of blood forms slowly to embellish the soft whorl of her middle finger.

There's something curiously familiar to that sight.

Something which is inexplicably unnerving.

For a brief moment, her mind flashes with the image of the insufferable little wretch finally bested by her dear friend- and all by a simple spinning wheel no less!- but then the soft fingers her mind conjures become stronger, slimmer, absent of the ring worn by Aurora, and she realizes it is not the needle of the spinning wheel which has caused this hand to bleed, but glass.

"...No..."

The brunette shakes her head in an attempt to banish the image, but yet again her mind's eye pans cruelly out to show her the blonde lying on the floor of the Station.

Wet.

The water from the over-flowing sink, so cold. Hair like dirty straw. Skin pale. Clammy.

The gray flash of her cotton briefs betrayed by the slant of her jeans.

"No!"

Throwing the knife she holds hatefully onto the kitchen island, she stands with her palms flat on the woodblock surface, head bent, commanding her breath slowly back under her control.

_Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. This has to STOP!_

"Pull yourself together, dear."

And normally that's all it would take.

_This isn't normal._

No. Not in the least.

That morning, after the Sheriff had slipped quietly from her room, she had stood blissfully bare on the soft carpet of her master-bedroom, brushing her wet hair thoughtfully, dark eyes flickering about the expanse of the greenery out front. She had watched the blonde with a small smirk as the younger woman had jogged hastily across the lawn and ducked into the yellow piece of scrap she insists on calling a car.

It had been a smirk, yes; Emma's display of stealth comical to say the least.

But it had not been a smirk of _ill-intent_.

Rather, one of a secret shared.

An expression of affection.

"Oh Emma..."

She sighs distractedly, rubbing at her temples restlessly; holding her injured finger primly away from her face.

"What am I supposed to  _do_?"

The words are quiet. Calm. She just wishes she knew the answer.

"I could have  _killed_  you. What I did  _should_  have killed you. And yet..."

_True love's kiss can break any curse..._

"That's ridiculous!"

She laughs nervously; dark eyes brimming with hysterical tears. Shaking her head once more, she moves stiffly to put the potatoes she had been cutting up back into the fridge. Running a hand through her hair, she does something she has never done before...

...Entering her drawing room as if on autopilot, the Mayor moves to the liquor cabinet. Trembling fingers reach for the half-empty bottle of bourbon that remains from the previous evening, and a small smile touches her lips as she thinks of the time spent up in her room; perfect droplets falling unnoticed from her lashes.


	41. Chapter 41

"Get out!"

"But-"

" _Out_!"

The brunette yells hoarsely, her chest flushed as she squares up to the pathetic reporter. She has used her wicked tongue to dub him a disgrace, worthless, and an imbecile, and yet the sniveling little weasel remains exactly where he stands.

Sydney takes a cautious step forwards, eyes flickering nervously to the hearth in which flames climb ever higher without the watchful eye of the Mayor to tend them. His nostrils flare with the tart scent of liquor, and he can see it glistening within her darkened eyes as well as on her lips.

"Don't make me say it again, Sydney..."

The reporter shivers at the Mayor's low tone, cowering slightly beneath her murderous glower but refusing to take a step back. He widens his eyes, begging for her to see reason; knowing it is surely a pointless pursuit, but desperate to save the dark beauty he reveres as she seems to be coming dangerously close to becoming undone before him.

"Please... Madame Mayor... _Please_..."

The brunette's fingers tremble ever so slightly, and her vision dances in and out of focus, but her snarl remains painted perfectly on scarlet lips. She takes a step towards him- swaying a little- and he instinctively extends a hand to steady her.

" _Don't touch me_!"

Unbridled anger in eyes almost black with intoxication and she brings her hand down hard across his face. Sydney lets out an oddly feminine cry, his palm flying up to cover the angry red mark blossoming at his cheek. He regards the Mayor with shocked confusion, taking a hasty stride backwards.

_He had come to the grand mansion after finishing work to seek out council from the enchanting brunette, having found her to be absent from her office. This in itself had not caused too much unease, as over the past few weeks it has seemed to be becoming a more regular occurrence. Knocking loudly at the front door, he had waited, growing impatient when no one had come to invite him across the threshold despite spying several of the lights on inside. Eventually, after his fourth attempt of rapping the heavy brass knocker forcefully against its plate, the door had been pulled back by Henry; the young boy's face alight with confusion._

_Henry had stated he had simply assumed his mother would answer for a guest, as was always the way, and had suggested- with a look that said he thought it to be highly unlikely- that the Mayor was perhaps listening to headphones and so had not heard the continuous knocking. Sydney had restrained the urge to mutter at the boy that Madame Mayor was_ not _like hia pitiful excuse for a birth mother, and that the likelihood of Regina sitting around bopping her head to the beat of a pair of headphones in a fashion similar to the troublesome blonde was precisely nil._

_His Mayor listens to music from a grand and expensive hi-fi system._

_He had removed his shoes politely, before moving cautiously through the spacious rooms; searching out the elusive Mayor. Upon entering her drawing room he had found her; sat with her head in her hands as the yellow light from the fire flickered softly over her chocolate tresses. Upon rousing her by use of her name, the brunette had looked up to snarl at him, demanding he take his leave at once, as a curiously empty bottle of bourbon remained clenched in one, perfect fist._

_The ten minutes that followed have done nothing to better the situation._

"Regina..."

"Leave! And if you so much as _whisper_ about this to anyone..."

But she uses her eyes to convey the rest. The reporter swallows, stumbling slightly as he backs further away from the dark woman.

Exiting the room with unsteady backwards strides, Sydney makes one last, meek attempt to reason with the Mayor; her chalky pallor combined with the high flush to her cheeks and perspiration on her brow convincing symptoms of a fever, but the heavy scent of alcohol that cloaks her reveals a more startling truth. The brunette is not just tipsy, but in fact dangerously drunk. From the exaggerated sway to her hips and the shallowness of her breath he guesses she's been drinking since the early hours of the afternoon; a worrying thought, as the sky has already begun taking on a bruised purple hue.

"Madame Mayor, _please_ let me help you, I-"

"Get the hell out of my house, you miserable little man! Out! Out! _Out_!"

The reporter ducks in horrified surprised as the Mayor sends the empty liquor bottle hurtling towards his head; the glass shattering against the wall behind him. Staring at the brunette with wounded shock, Sydney turns and all but flees the large house, leaving Regina to fall back onto the sofa as the flames continue to lick at the sooty brick of the hearth.

She is completely oblivious to the fact her son stands open-mouthed in the hallway.

* * *

"Oh, sweet Jesus, _my eyes_! Put some clothes on!"

Mary Margaret throws her hand theatrically over her face as she turns pointedly away from the blonde who makes her way down the wrought iron staircase two at a time. Emma chuckles wickedly, springing down the last three steps to land on woolen socked feet. She tweaks at the soft cotton of the underwear she wears beneath her sweater casually, pulling at the seam so that the material better covers her ass cheek.

"Hey! You and your eyes are damn lucky being treated to all this!"

She whips her hair jokingly to the side, hand dragging sordidly down her bare slender thigh as she grins at her housemate who rolls her eyes in bemusement.

"I _warned_ you I had some shitty habits when I moved in! And one of those shitty habits happens to be that I refuse to get dolled up just to come downstairs and make coffee! We-"

"-Have company..."

"Ha, no we-... Wait, _what_?!"

It's the schoolteacher's turn to grin as she gestures towards the kitchenette where her guest stands awkwardly at the counter making tea.

"Uh... David..."

"Good evening, Sheriff..."

David smiles at the blonde with ill-hidden amusement as the latter's cheeks flush crimson and she turns to glare down at her housemate.

"Why didn't you tell me you he was here?!"

"Well, I didn't reckon you'd come downstairs to swan around in your underwear for one."

" _I am not-_ "

Emma breaks off quickly, aware that her voice is unnaturally raised and carries on in a cold whisper.

"-I am not _swanning around_ in my underwear, I'm in my damn _pyjamas._ I was reading in bed!"

"Looks like underwear from where _I'm_ sitting."

"Yes, well unlike _some_ people, I don't wear a fucking _nightie_ to bed! I'm not seven!"

Mary Margaret scowls playfully at the Sheriff who eyes her heatedly. David turns away to hide an amused smirk at the Sheriff's angry whispering, which is so far doing nothing to stop him from overhearing. Offering the raven-headed woman one last growl, the blonde turns to head back upstairs.

Mary Margaret calls after her sweetly.

"Weren't you down here to make yourself coffee?"

Her eyes sparkle as Emma turns back to glare at her warningly; smiling innocently before mouthing silently up at the Sheriff.

"I thought we were damn lucky to be treated to 'all this'?"

The schoolteacher watches the battle of conflicting emotions warring across the younger woman's face with amusement, but she knows the blonde well enough to predict stubbornness will win out. As per her expectations, with a low hiss, Emma runs a hand irritably through her long hair before stalking over to the kitchenette with obstinate determination.

She pointedly ignores David as she stretches up onto her toes to reach the instant coffee which rests on the top shelf of the cabinet above the sink; damning both Mary Margaret for its placement- the schoolteacher deeming coffee of the instant variety to be garbage and therefore not worthy of a position on the countertop- and her sweater for riding up with her movements to showcase the pale flesh of her stomach. Mission complete and reaching for the kettle, she finds David averting his gaze from her just as pointedly. Sighing, she rests her backside against the counter as she waits for the kettle to boil and attempts an act of nonchalance.

"So, what are you guys up to tonight?"

"No real plans, we just thought we'd hang out."

David's cheeks flush slightly as he looks up to find the Sheriff raising an eyebrow knowingly and he hurries over to the safety of the sofa, handing the schoolteacher her tea. Mary Margaret holds her housemate's stare with a little more confidence and offers the younger woman a small shrug.

"What about you? Hitting the town?"

Emma bites back a harsh retort as she inwardly rolls her eyes at the comment she imagines the idiot sitting next to her friend meant in jest as he nods pointedly at her attire.

_Christ, I barely know the guy and he's going to start cracking shitty jokes about my damn underwear?... Charming!_

"No... No, I have a pretty hot date planned with a bottle of merlot and the lovely Stephen."

"Stephen?"

David's brow lifts in curiosity as Mary Margaret chuckles and puts him out of his misery.

"King. Stephen King. Emma's idea of a good night is to scare herself witless with disturbing stories."

"They're not disturbing, they're interesting! You want disturbing stories, try Henry's book!"

"The fairy tale book?"

Again, David's brow creases in confusion. This time Emma sets him straight.

"It's not so much the fairy tales as it is being told everyone in town is an embodiment of them..."

"Really? How weird! Who does he think we all are?"

"Well-"

Mary Margaret trails off after a sharp glance from the blonde. The Sheriff shrugs awkwardly; suddenly a little uncomfortable about sharing her son's private thoughts with David Nolan.

 _And not just because of the whole fucked up Charming thing... It's... Well, it's_ our _thing..._

Leaving the question unanswered, the blonde turns to make her coffee; stirring the steaming dark liquid a few times with a spoon before tossing the utensil into the sink with a small clunk. She takes her drink and moves to disappear upstairs again; glowering at the schoolteacher as she passes her in return for the awkward five minutes just spent in the kitchen. Mary Margaret smiles innocently, muttering sweetly.

"Maybe you should think twice about bad mouthing my use of a nightgown, hmm?"

"Maybe..."

The raven-headed woman chuckles amiably as the blonde holds her hand up behind her as she leaves; discreetly flipping her the bird.

* * *

"Emma... Emma...?"

Emma places the wine she holds in her hand carefully to rest on her nightstand, before rolling over onto her stomach to reach for the walkie that lies at the far end of her bed.

"Hey kid, what's up?"

"Emma... Can I stay with you tonight?"

"...Huh?"

The blonde frowns in confusion, eyeing the blocky phone in her hand curiously.

"Can I stay at yours?"

"...Uh... Your mom probably wouldn't like that..."

 _Unless... Surely Regina hasn't permitted Henry to stay the night? She is changing, for sure, but the boy hasn't even been over for_ dinner _with her knowing blessing._

"...-Bad"

"What, Henry?"

Emma pulls herself from her thoughts quickly; feeling guilty for having paid Henry only half of her attention.

"She... Something's wrong... She's acting... Bad..."

"What do you mean she's 'acting bad'?"

The Sheriff swings herself around so that she sits up on the bed; the warm buzz of her wine deserting her instantly.

"I don't know... She's angry... And she threw a bottle, and there's glass on the floor, and I-"

"-What?! Henry, are you ok?"

Slim fingers wrestle through tangled curls distractedly as the blonde switches the walkie to her other hand; already moving to pick her jeans up off the floor.

"Yes, but I... Can you come get me?"

"I... I'm coming over right now, ok?"

"Ok."

Emma frowns, depressing the communication button. She wrestles her jeans up quickly, before pulling on her boots with vicious determination. Henry's call has spooked her, and the brief thought she spares over the fact she has polished off half a bottle of wine is almost immediately overruled with worry for the kid.

_Not just the kid...Worry about what the hell could be wrong with the Regina..._

* * *

"Regina!"

Emma raps her knuckles hard against the stately door to the Mayor's mansion. For a hatefully long time her knocking goes unanswered, but then, finally, a pale face peeks into view as Henry cracks the door open an inch to spy her on the doorstep. Confirming it to be the Sheriff, he opens it fully; pulling at her hand to lead her inside.

"Kid, what's going on? Where's your mom?"

She doesn't wait for an answer; instead patting the young brunet down carefully and scrutinizing him clinically until she is sure he is unharmed, before moving off towards the drawing room where she can see the telling light of the fire dancing through the crack beneath the door.

"She's gone mad!"

Henry's voice is high and panicked and the blonde turns to him and places a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"Go wait in the kitchen, ok?"

"But-"

"-Please, Henry."

He frowns, but she trusts he'll listen to her and hurries over to the drawing room on slightly shaky legs. Knocking softly, she lets herself in without waiting for an invitation.

* * *

"Oh shit..."

The Sheriff glances down at the fractured glass that studs the stone at her feet before making her way over to the brunette who lies reclined awkwardly on the sofa.

"Regina?"

The Mayor's lashes flutter open with a frown as she bats away the irksome fingers scuttling over her like spiders. Glaring up at the blonde in confusion, she attempts to bark at her to get the hell out, only to let out a low groan.

"How much have you had to drink?"

The brunette scowls up at the pale face that looms close to hers like the moon, and shakes her head. Emma crouches down on her haunches, looking up into the darker woman's face with unmasked concern. The latter simply lets out another groan.

"Regina... Shit, what's wrong with you? Why have you... Why?"

"Why are you here?"

"Hen-... To check if you're okay! What the hell have you _done_?"

The blonde points over to the shattered remains of the Jack Daniel's bottle with wide eyes and Regina grumbles at her to shut the hell up as she moves to push herself up off the sofa. She slaps Emma's helping hands away angrily, before collapsing unsteadily onto the floor with a small cry of frustration. The Sheriff sighs, moving to stand behind the darker woman and finding the hollows of her armpits so as to hoist her back up.

"What are you doing?"

"... Henry..."

Emma looks up to find the boy watching them from the threshold. Clearing her throat, she pulls the brunette slowly back onto the sofa.

"Your mom's sick, kid."

"No she's not."

This time Regina looks up at Henry too when he speaks, his tone ice cold. The blonde frowns, not accustomed to hearing the kid speak in such a way.

"She's not sick. She's _drunk_."

Henry kicks at the glass that litters the floor pointedly, glaring at the brunette on the sofa with narrowed eyes. Emma shakes her head, turning back to Regina who now clutches at her arm a little painfully and she speaks over her shoulder.

"Kid, I'll take care of this, you need to go to bed."

"Why are you being _nice_ to her?! I thought you were coming to take me home! It's _her_ fault she's drunk!"

"Henry!"

The blonde glances down at the Mayor cautiously, but is astounded to find not shock in dark eyes that struggle to focus, but simply a hateful sadness. She imagines the kid's tone is much more familiar to the brunette.

"It's _true_!"

Henry states, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest as he watches the Sheriff pull his mother back onto her feet and sling a slender arm up and over her neck to help support the darker woman. He pouts as Emma throws him a warning glance, moving aside to let the blonde squeeze through the door with the Mayor, who meanwhile struggles weakly to push her away.

"She's not _sick_ , she's _drunk_! She's _bad_! She's an evil witch and I hate-"

"- _Henry!_ Go to bed. _Now!_ "

The boy flinches visibly, staring up at the blonde in shock before turning tail and running up the stairs without a second glance. Emma winces as a door above them slams; not quite able to believe she's yelled at him.

"And now, you're no better than I am, Miss Swan..."

The Sheriff glares down at the brunette leant against her, but with the way Regina slurs her words and rolls her eyes, she decides to let such things slide.

_What if she's right, though? What if he doesn't like me anymore after what I just did..._

Battling such thoughts away with difficulty, the blonde commits to the task at hand and struggles onwards with her intoxicated burden. She manages a few strides more before coming to an exhausted stop. Regina's lids have drooped to half-mast and she decides to act on impulse and fuck the consequences. Reaching down awkwardly, she finds the crook of the Mayor's knees and pulls the brunette up into a shaky fireman's hold. Panting a little, she makes her way up the stairs; cursing the older woman for the scale of her house as she carries her carefully to her bedroom.


	42. Chapter 42

The blonde offloads the Mayor gently onto the plush covers of her bed, trying to ignore the cramps that ravage the muscles of her arms. Massaging her biceps, she admonishes the darker woman with a kind grimace, muttering playfully.

"If you have plans of becoming a regular alcoholic, I'm going to have to insist you go on a diet or invest in a chair-lift."

"Shu'up."

She pulls at Regina's shoulder to position the brunette on her side as the latter's fingers find her wrist weakly and take hold. Emma sighs, before gently plucking the older woman's hand away and turning for the door.

"Emma?..."

Dark eyes find her blearily and the Sheriff moves quickly back over to the bed, bending low so that her face is level with the Mayor's.

"I'm just going downstairs for a second, ok? I need to get you some water or you'll be spending tomorrow on your back with the blinds drawn... I'll be right back."

The blonde smiles despite herself at the curious wave of relief that touches the darker woman's features, before hurrying out of the room and down the hallway.

As she reaches the top of the stairs, she glances over at the door on the far side of the hall with a frown. Nibbling her lip, she moves quietly in that direction and knocks softly on the solid wood. She receives no reply, but slowly pushes the door open; peeking into the darkness of her son's bedroom.

Henry lies on top of his covers, still dressed in his clothes, with his back to her. She wants more than anything to pad softly over and pull the boy to her, but she can't. Not just because of Regina's current state or the fact that she's in the Mayor's house- the latter having made her thoughts on Emma and Henry spending time together perfectly clear- but because she's just not built that way. She is unsure what emotion will be released if she goes and comforts the boy, and this stops her from entering the room any further. Instead, she clears her throat and speaks quietly.

"Henry?... I'm sorry I yelled at you... I shouldn't have... I... Your mom _is_ sick... She was drinking, you're right, but I think she's upset about something and I didn't want what you said to make it worse and I guess I didn't go about it in the best way... I... I didn't mean to snap at you, kid... I'm sorry?"

The blonde holds her breath as she waits for an answer but Henry remains stoically silent. With a sigh, she pads defeatedly out the room, closing the door softly behind her.

She remains oblivious to the fact that her son lies fast asleep; a victim of the stress of the evening.

Hurrying down the stairs, the Sheriff makes her way into the kitchen, opening various cabinets and cupboards until she finds a stack of nihilistically simple glasses. She recalls the brunette's presumed preference for bottled water from the previous night- _Shit,_ _I'm becoming a god damned_ regular _at l'maison de Mills-_ but a brief check in the fridge comes up empty.

"Well, fuck it, tap water isn't going to kill her."

She pours the water carefully; not filling the glass too high as she doubts Regina's motor skills will be up to their usual standards. Spying a neat pile of laundry waiting in the conjoined utility room, the blonde selects a soft, blue washcloth and holds it under the cold water to soak before ringing it out.

When she reenters the Mayor's bedroom, she finds her once more lying on her back with her eyes closed. Creeping quietly closer to the darker woman, she places her hand gently on the brunette's shoulder so as not to startle her when she perches on the edge of the bed. Regina's eyes flicker open and Emma is pleased to see that the delirious quality of intoxication has now been replaced by a hazy, delayed exhaustion with which she is all too familiar herself.

"Drink."

The brunette shakes her head weakly and the Sheriff mimics her with greater conviction; sliding her arm beneath the darker woman's shoulders and propping her up with no concern to the latter's moaned protest.

"Uh uh, I wasn't asking. Drink."

Regina rolls her eyes feebly and takes a few sips before shaking her head once more. This time, the blonde shows her some mercy and lowers her back down onto the bed. The Mayor looks up at the younger woman tiredly; holding her pleasant, green gaze silently. Emma eventually drops her eyes to her lap and sighs.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?"

"... I had a little too much to drink, just as Henry so graciously informed you..."

"Uhuh, I'd sussed _that_ much for myself... But why?"

"Miss Swan, demand for an explanation as to one's drinking habits seems fairly rich coming from yourself."

Emma glances back up at the Mayor, but instead of a snarl, her lips form a weak smile as she notes to herself that Regina's all too familiar prim way of bitching is probably a good sign that the older woman is sobering up slightly.

"You had more than just a _little_ too much to drink, Regina... Now... Either something's happened since I left here this morning... Or _I_ did something wrong... If I did... If you hadn't wanted me to stay, or-"

"-Don't."

"-I'm just saying-"

"-Miss Swan... Emma... Don't. I made it very clear I wanted you to stay, did I not?"

"Well... Yeah... But-"

"-You did nothing wrong, dear. _Nothing_! It's not _you_ that should be fretting, I... I..."

But the brunette's eyes clamp shut as her voice cracks shakily, and for a moment the Sheriff wonders if her stomach has given up storing the copious amount of alcohol bestowed upon it, but then she realizes with greater alarm that the Mayor is on the verge of tears. Leaning down over the darker woman nervously, she tries to adopt a soothing tone as she pats her awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Hey now! Hey! Regina... Come on... Please don't be upset... Just tell me what's wrong!"

"I'm so s-sorry..."

"What? _Why_!?... Regina?"

"I... Emma, I tried to hurt you..."

The blonde blinks in surprise before offering the older woman a small nod of her head.

"Well, no shit... I know _that_..."

"...You do?"

"Of _course_ I do... I guess I wasn't always completely blameless either... But... I kind of get it... Some of it..."

The Mayor frowns in confusion, before realizing that the Sheriff refers to the many weeks spent at each other's throats after her arrival. Shaking her head miserably, she places a hand over her eyes in an attempt to keep her dignity; aware that neither of them are particularly well equipped with emotion of the salted variety.

"No..."

"Regina, it's okay."

"It's _not_! What I did is _not_ okay!"

"Look, we-"

"-Emma I tried to hurt you! _Really_ tried to hurt you! And it's not... It's not okay!"

"I don't-... You mean the brakes on the cruiser?"

"No! I..."

_Oh God, the fucking brakes... She wouldn't have been hurt, surely... I mean... The car was supposed to crash... And it was Sydney's idea... But-_

"I know about the brakes, and it _was_ a pretty low move... But-"

"-I don't mean the brakes... I... I t-tried to...Oh god-"

"-I don't want to know."

Emma's tone is low and steady, and the brunette removes her hand cautiously from her eyes to regard the younger woman warily. The softness in the Sheriff's expression unsettles her greatly and she opens her mouth to protest before slender fingers find her hair and stroke it away from her face again and again.

The blonde chews at the inside of her cheek, feeling exceptionally awkward as she runs her fingers through the brunette's hair in such a uncharacteristically caring fashion, but when dark eyes slip closed and some of the anguish disappears from the older woman's brow she decides it's worth it. Regina mutters quietly

"You... You don't want to know?"

"Nope."

"Emma..."

"Regina, I'm _happy_ , and I get a feeling that if you tell me what you're about to tell me I won't be anymore... There's not a lot of times before that I've been happy... Whatever you did... You said yourself you were sorry..."

"... I am... But my dear, this isn't something that can just be let _go!_ "

"It is. You said you tried to hurt me- _really_ hurt me- and I'm fine, which would suggest whatever you had planned to say or do, you _didn't_. Or you fixed it. If you need me to tell you I forgive you or whatever the fuck will make you feel better, then I do! Whatever it is! Just... It's ok..."

The brunette looks up at the Sheriff with something akin to disbelief, but the younger woman simply shrugs. Regina sighs, knowing that the blonde declaring her forgiveness should mean nothing. Knowing that if Emma only _knew_ what she was forgiving she may feel far less inclined to do so. But there's something about what the Sheriff had said that stops her from crying out to the blonde to stop with her stupidity.

_I'm happy... There's not a lot of times before that I've been happy._

And, isn't that something which she should understand? _Can_ understand?

_Better than most, dear._

Sighing, the brunette reaches for the Sheriff and rests her hand on the latter's knee. She jerks slightly as Emma places the chilled flannel across her forehead, but keeps her hand in place. Glancing up at the blonde with a sense of miserable half-closure she regards her appreciatively.

"You should get yourself home, dear, it's getting late..."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"...But... What about Henry?"

"I'll cross that bridge tomorrow. I don't think it's all too crazy that I'd stay to make sure you were ok... After all... That's exactly what I'm doing."

"I'll be fine..."

"Yup, you _probably_ will."

"Emma, you don't have to hang around just because I did something stupid..."

"Actually, I do, sorry!"

The blonde smiles and swings her legs up onto the bed so that she rests next to the Mayor comfortably.

"I'm not having it on my conscience if your drunk ass goes rolling onto her back in the night and drowns in her own vomit. Rock star death; not your style."

"Miss Swan! I would _not_!"

"You might! Sorry, Madame Mayor, but arrogance and class do not exempt you from such dangers."

Emma sighs as she teases, fully aware of Regina's displeasure at her insinuations, but pleased to have roused this more familiar side to the Mayor. She shimmies down the bed so that she lies flush beside the brunette and the darker woman rolls over tipsily to brush at her lips. The blonde moves away with a grin.

"Oh no you don't, you need to get some sleep. Doctor's orders!"

"Miss Swan, I have a suspicion that you would be hard put to place a _bandaid_ on the right way round..."

The Sheriff ignores the Mayor's muttering as the brunette's eyes begin to close for progressively longer periods of time. She begins to think the older woman has fallen asleep when Regina lets out a low sob. Moving up onto her elbow, Emma regards her worriedly, watching as a delicate droplet seeps from the corner of sooty lashes. Lying back down, she pulls the brunette to her firmly, moving so that she lies on her side, holding the Mayor as the latter nestles against her.

"Whatever it is... It's ok. If you want to tell me, you can... But not tonight. Not when you're drunk... Understand?"

"...But you're happy."

"I am... And you're _sorry._.. Please, just try get some rest."

"...Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Regina wraps her arms tightly around the blonde's waist- vaguely aware of the fact that Emma still wears her jacket- and buries her face into the comfort of the Sheriff's chest, unmindful of the salted tears that dampen golden curls as her breathing becomes more regular and shallow as sleep engulfs her blissfully.

* * *

The old pawnbroker raises an eyebrow in curiosity as he makes his way slowly back from his business in the woods. Passing the Mayor's mansion, he spies something which stops him in his tracks and creeps a little closer to the grand gate to investigate.

"What might _you_ be doing here at this hour, Dearie?"

Of course, the object of his curiosity offers him no response, but his mind is already racing as he thinks back to his conversation with the Mayor in her office. Turning round, he proceeds silently down the path, stopping only once to peer back at the old yellow bug parked outside the Mayor's house.


	43. Chapter 43

The blonde wakes up with a groan as pins and needles shoot painfully up her arm. Opening an eye to the semi-darkness, she is accosted with a mass of chocolate tresses that look almost black in the purple haze of dawn. The Mayor appears to be dreaming peacefully, and Emma allows herself a small grin as she realizes the older woman's hand has come to rest firmly on her ass whilst sleeping. Rolling over slowly, she carefully pulls her arm out from under Regina with a wince and sits up to survey her surroundings.

A small, silver clock on the nightstand informs her that it's quarter to six and she muses momentarily on the fact that the darker woman seems to be having a peculiar affect on her recently; early mornings not a usual occurrence.

_And I'd like to keep it that way!_

The reason for her early rousing becomes clear when she looks back down at the brunette whose brow has furrowed slightly at the loss of the Sheriff's body flush with her own. Emma wears her jeans and jacket from the previous evening, but still she shivers a little with cold. The Mayor however, wears only a cream blouse, and her exposed forearms are dappled with gooseflesh. Pulling her jacket tighter around herself and pulling up the zipper, the Sheriff gently struggles to free the heavy silken throw from beneath the brunette. Finally successful, she pulls it over the sleeping woman swiftly, resisting the urge to chuckle as Regina nuzzles deeper into the plush blanket; her expression comically serene.

Pulling her fingers roughly through her knotted hair, the blonde creeps quietly towards the door before looking back. Frowning as she surprises herself a little with the gesture, she turns back and pads over to the ornate writing bureau that stands between the window and the door to the bathroom in search of some paper and a pen. The majority of the stationary that litters the roll-top's surface seems to be for show- comprised of heavy parchment and _quills_ of all things- but eventually she manages to find a ballpoint pen and a scrap of wide-ruled paper. Scribbling quickly- doing her best to make her messy scrawl legible- she stabs at the paper with a final point before tiptoeing over to the Mayor's nightstand and leaving the note by her side, along with a couple of small items from her pocket.

* * *

Henry stirs as he recognizes the familiar sound of the weak floorboard by his mother's room creaking. He blinks in confusion, shivering as he becomes aware of a peculiar chill, before looking down to realize that he lies on top of his covers in his shirt and jeans. The wretched festivities of the night before come crashing back to him and he nibbles at his lip as he pushes himself quietly from his bed and creeps over to the door, wondering what his mother is up to now.

"Emma?"

The Sheriff freezes as she stands at the top of the stairs, Henry's voice an exaggerated whisper through the stark silence of the house. Turning to look at him, she tries to compose herself with an expression befitting the moment.

Unfortunately, she has no idea what that is.

"Henry..."

Her tone is oddly cautious, and they are by now both aware of the awkwardness left over between the two of them as a result of the previous evening. The blonde falters visibly as she tries to decide just what in the hell to do or say, and it is the boy in the end who breaks the uneasiness that rests between them.

With a theatrically sly glance towards his mother's bedroom door, the brunet beckons the Sheriff to come over to his room with exaggerated gestures of his small hand. Breaking into a crooked grin, the blonde hurries over as Henry steps aside to let her slip past before closing the door.

"What are you still doing here?"

He takes her hand with all the simplistic grace of his ten years and leads her to his bed where he springs swiftly beneath the covers. Emma perches on the edge of the small double, but pulls herself up to sit cross-legged in the middle of the mattress with a little coaxing from the brunet. Sighing, she studies him briefly before lowering her eyes to her jean-clad knees.

"Uh, I stayed to make sure your mom was ok..."

"Because she got drunk?"

"...Yes, Henry, because she got drunk... Sometimes, if you drink too much you can get sick and it can get dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"Uhuh... Henry, your mom... She was upset about something. I don't know what, but it must have been pretty bad... I mean... _You_ only cry and act up if you're _really_ upset about something, right? Your mom's no different..."

"She didn't look upset, she looked _angry_... She yelled at Sydney, and then... Just..."

Henry frowns in frustration as he searches for the right words to explain his thoughts. He is confused by the blonde's sudden willingness to help the brunette and her calm understanding of his mother's terrifying rage. He wants to tell her that he, personally, finds her peculiar trust and acceptance to be foolish, but his memory serves him with the image of the Sheriff's anger when she had yelled at him- actually _yelled_ at him- last night and he remains silent. As if sensing the boy's tension, Emma looks up to smile at him shyly as she fidgets with a loose thread on her jeans.

"I'm sure she _was_ angry... But not at _you_ , Henry... And _I_ wasn't angry at you, either... I shouldn't have snapped at you, kid, and I'm sorry... I was just... You can't _say_ things like that to your mom! No matter what... She loves you... Hell, it's _because_ she loves you that she gets upset when you and I hang out. She sees us getting on as well as we do, and maybe that _does_ make her angry, but only because she loves you, kid... You do understand that, right?"

"... I guess."

"And whatever she was sad or angry or upset about, she... Well she shouldn't have dealt with it the way she did...But she didn't react that way because she's 'evil' or 'bad'... She... She's human..."

"... I was scared."

"That's ok. I was a little scared too."

" _You_?!"

"Yup... Terrified come to mention it."

"Of my mom?"

"No... _For_ your mom. I was worried about her."

"...Why?"

"Well, because of the bad way she was in."

"Oh."

Henry cocks his head to the side as though contemplating this for the first time, which, in a way, he is. He regards the blonde thoughtfully as the latter lets her eyes wander around his room; Emma coming to the absurd realization that she has never actually been in her son's bedroom before. Crawling forwards, he kneels awkwardly and puts his arms hesitantly around the Sheriff's neck; tightening his hold when she wraps her own arms around his waist. Mumbling into her shoulder he muses on the bizarre way the blonde carries a hint of his mother's scent.

"It's just not fair, though..."

"What isn't?"

"You're nice to my mom, but she's always so _mean_ to you."

"... That's not true."

"Yes it is! You-"

"-Wanna know something, kid? When that storm hit and it got really bad, I was out on patrol. _That_ was dangerous, too. Your mom let me stay with her inside until the storm passed... So that I wouldn't get hurt."

"...Really?"

"Yes. Really."

Emma leans back to regard the small boy and offers him a stern smile.

"The thing about real life, kid, is that things tend to be a hell of a lot more complicated than 'good' and 'evil'... I want you to promise me something, okay?"

"...Okay?"

"When your mom gets up later... Just... You know...Remember that. Don't talk to her like you did last night. Promise?"

"...Promise."

Henry's expression says that he finds the notion to be incredibly obscure, but he nods slowly at the blonde regardless.

In a way, his age plays both a blessing and a curse. He is perhaps not quite mature enough to understand what the Sheriff has tried to say- and she is perhaps not quite comfortable enough to guide him eloquently- but he is also ten, and he will agree with Emma's slightly disjointed and vague explanation on the ways of adult life without any further question.

Nor does it occur to him to ask the blonde where she'd slept.

If he had, he would have simply smirked at the thought of his mother partaking in a childish slumber party.

"Right, kid, I'd better get going. Come by the station later if you like and we'll break for hot chocolate... And remember-"

"-Be nice to my mom... I know."

Emma nods, jumping up from the bed and offering the boy a much broader, more comfortable grin, before creeping quietly from his room and making her way silently downstairs.

* * *

" _God.._."

The Mayor awakens with a groan as her brain pulses nauseatingly against her skull. She fears she can feel her heartbeat in her eyelids and places a hand over them shakily. She is vaguely aware that something isn't quite right- momentarily sure something seems to be missing- before her memory swims with the hazy recollection that she had fallen asleep in the company of the Sheriff. Cracking open one eye blearily, she finds herself to be alone.

"Thank god."

But her stomach twists uneasily, and she knows better than to blame it entirely on the alcohol. She is almost certain that she recalls most of what happened the previous night- groggily but coherently- but Emma's absence has her inwardly wondering if perhaps she's forgotten something ill-said or ill-meant. Rolling onto her side to deduce the time, she notes a small scrap of paper riddled with spiky black scrawl.

_Madame Mayor._

_Suggest you stick to wine- makes sleepovers much more fun._

_PRESENT!_

_E._

Dark eyes flickering back to the table, Regina smirks in spite of the nausea slowly settling upon her as she spies two, small pain killers beside her glass of water. Swallowing them gingerly, she lies back and closes her eyes, Emma's note still held between her fingers.


	44. Chapter 44

Bright eyes flicker up hesitantly as the brunette takes a seat at the dining room table; a strong black coffee cupped in her slender hands. Henry looks back down at his Cheerio's awkwardly, chasing the little O's around the bowl with his spoon. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his mother open and close her mouth a few times as though trying to find the right thing to say. Eventually the Mayor's eyes drop to her coffee and she lets out a defeated sigh.

Henry is astonished to find that the brunette looks almost sad, and his first thought is unkind; sure that Regina is simply manipulating him into feeling guilty for last night's outburst.

_"The thing about real life, kid, is that things tend to be a hell of a lot more complicated than 'good' and 'evil'..."_

Emma's surprising statement... And he supposes that he _does_ in fact feel a little guilty, regardless of the Mayor's possible motives. He has spent so much of his time engrossing himself in the undeniable, unquestionable- hell- _documented_ fact that the woman sitting opposite him is pure evil, that he has perhaps lost sight of the person beneath. He is still sceptical about Emma's sudden blasé trust towards her supposed enemy, but the blonde's hushed voice as she had sat with him on his bed and demanded he realize his mother's evident love for him haunts him in a way that is almost comforting.

Looking back up at the brunette, he speaks in the low, polite tone the Mayor had believed lost towards her since long before the Sheriff's arrival.

"How do you feel?"

Regina glances up, startled, regarding the young boy with pink tinged eyes. Faltering momentarily beneath her glittering coals, Henry simply does what comes naturally and offers her a smile; small at first, but then wide and genuine. The brunette stares down at her coffee hastily, swallowing as she feels tears prickling beneath her lashes. Running a slender finger thoughtfully over the mug's handle, she reciprocates with a small smile of her own.

"I have felt worse, but I have also felt a lot better..."

"Would you like some water?"

"That... Would be lovely."

She watches as Henry slides from his chair and pads over to the kitchen, his jeans looking suspiciously crumpled and drowning in the grey hoodie bestowed upon him by the blonde. She glimpses the small rip in the sweater's sleeve- a remnant of his rather chaotic adventures with the Sheriff in the woods- and muses with a sigh on just how much he reminds her of Emma with his hair mussed and his clothes falling about his body haphazardly.

Henry returns to the table with a tall glass of water. She had heard the tap running, despite her preference for bottled water, but she doesn't mention this. She simply takes a delicate sip before regarding Henry with tentative sorrow.

"Henry... What happened last night... I should never have-"

"-It's okay."

The small brunet shrugs as he looks up at her, his expression childishly casual as he goes on to explain his discussion with the blonde. He reasons that his mother must be aware that Emma had stayed over, and so referring to the fact is unlikely to get the Sheriff into trouble, but he offers the Mayor an abridged version none the less, and in _this_ version he had come across the blonde downstairs while getting himself a glass of water.

"Emma said you were drinking because you were sad..."

"Trust Miss Swan to tell a child that liquor is the way to solve their sorrows..."

Henry ignores her statement, her rich tone absent from it's usual scorn when speaking of the Sheriff. If he didn't know any better, he would even go so far as to say he'd detected a hint of amusement as the words fall from her lips.

Of course, he _does_ know better than to believe something like _that_.

" _Are_ you sad?"

"Oh, Henry, of course not..."

"Because if you are, you can say."

"...I was upset last night, sweetheart... I did something I wished I hadn't, and thinking about it made me very upset because I regret the thing I did very much... I should never have dealt with it that way- alcohol solves nothing, you best remember that, Henry- and I should never have allowed myself to talk and act the way I did to Mr Glass, _especially_ with you in the house... I'm sorry."

"It's ok... I guess I was kind of a jerk too..."

Dark eyes sparkle with a mixture of irritation at yet another adverse term added to her son's repertoire, and amusement. Reaching for her son's hand across the table, she squeezes it lightly, her heart breaking a little at his ill-concealed flinch before he relaxes his fingers in hers.

"You were right to be angry, Henry."

"I... I wasn't _very_ angry. Emma said I shouldn't have talked to you like I did... And I'm sorry I called you evil."

The breath catches in the brunette's throat at the magnitude of that small statement. Her son's constant witch hunt at the mercy of that wretched book leaving her having heard the word muttered and whispered so many times, and yet the pain of the word coming from _him_ never dulling with the hateful repetition. Clearing her throat, she carries on lightly, once more diverting her attention carefully down to her coffee.

"Miss Swan said that?"

"Yes... She... She told me... Why didn't _you_ tell me you helped Emma in the storm?"

"... Hmmm?"

"She told me you helped her by letting her stay here so that she wouldn't get hurt... Why didn't you tell me?"

"...I suppose I didn't think it was a matter of concern."

"You helped Emma. You made sure she wouldn't get hurt... That's not something the Evil Queen would do..."

Regina bites her lip, blinking furiously as she feels her lashes laced instantly with moisture. Glancing up at the boy cautiously, she carries on in a voice not quite steady.

"Things are never as simple as 'good' and 'evil', Henry... Not even in your fairy tales... But that means more to me than you know that you think that way..."

Henry blushes, shrugging sheepishly before offering a tentative grin which the brunette repays in kind. Slipping from the table, he turns to collect his empty bowl and spoon before padding softly out into the kitchen. His mother's voice has him returning to stand in the doorway once he has placed the items in the dishwasher.

"Come here."

He sidles up to her curiously, his eyes wide when she pulls him onto her lap in a way he hasn't allowed her to do in years, her arms wrapping warmly around him. Twisting a little, he settles his own arms around her neck and closes his eyes as slim fingers play out gentle patterns on his back. Kissing him gently at the crown of his dark locks, she pulls back, studying him genially.

"Did you sleep in your clothes?"

The boy stiffens in her embrace nervously, but the brunette merely brushes his hair away from his face as she murmurs quietly.

"It's ok, you weren't alone."

Henry gapes at her comically and she sighs, letting him slide gently from her lap. Fussing with the rip in his sleeve with a sniff of disapproval, her tone is brisk and businesslike when she speaks.

"Look at the state of you. Go on, upstairs and in the shower, I want you on time for school, no excuses."

He nods, hurrying off up the stairs.

But not before he glimpses the brunette smile at him warmly as she sips at her cooling coffee.


	45. Chapter 45

"Sheriff..."

The blonde abruptly stops making faces at Ruby- who smirks at her as she works the counter at Granny's- and looks up sharply to regard the old pawnbroker. Gold offers her a small smile, his dark eyes glittering with cruel amusement at catching the Sheriff's childish behavior. Emma tosses back her long curls irritably and waits for the man to elaborate on his greeting or leave her the hell alone.

"What do you want, Gold?"

"Want? Who said anything about _wanting_? I merely saw you sitting here all by yourself and decided to come say hello."

"Sure you did."

"Well, I'm sorry to find you in such a miserable mood... Are you feeling alright, dearie? You look rather ill-rested... Trouble sleeping, Miss Swan?"

"No."

"Must just be the lighting in here then."

"Must be."

"...Actually, now that I have a moment with you, I'd like to ask if you've had a chance to look over those papers I gave you?"

"I filed them. I'm sure you'll hear from your insurance company soon enough in order to receive money you're probably not _actually_ entitled to."

"Miss Swan!"

The little man places a hand over his heart as he cries this last remark theatrically, his face a horrific interpretation of anguish. Dropping the act and sliding silkily into the seat opposite the rather disgruntled Sheriff, Gold folds his hands neatly on the table and regards her intently.

"Not _those_ papers, Sheriff..."

"Well, those are the only papers about which I am prepared to speak to you."

"Oh?... Now that _is_ curious..."

"I never _asked_ you for those goddamn papers, and you have no business asking me about them now!"

"No, that is true, you never asked... You sure as hell _implied_ your wish for help, however... I wonder why you should suddenly be so adverse to receiving it..."

"Simple. I don't trust you."

The blonde growls coldly, but Gold doesn't believe her reasoning for a second. Green eyes narrow dangerously and he imagines most would be fooled by her stony pokerface, but he doesn't miss the wary cast of her mouth or the tick at her jaw.

"Trust has nothing to do with it. Those were legitimate legal papers, I was merely playing the messenger... Surely you aren't about to let your pride stand in the way of retrieving your boy from the clutches of that awful woman... You'd let your qualms with me dominate over stopping your son from being mistreated?"

Gold chooses his words carefully, and knows instantly they have hit their mark when the Sheriff all but snarls back at him.

"She doesn't _mistreat_ him."

No sooner are the words out of the blonde's mouth when her brow furrows, seeming suddenly to think upon her oddly adamant statement.

_Curious._

"Look, Gold, it doesn't matter what you think, because it has fuck all to do with you. If I wanted to go up against Regina, then I would do so _my_ way. There's no chance in _hell_ I'd come to you."

If _you wanted to? Past tense. Very curious._

Gold studies Emma shrewdly, his mind racing as he thinks back on the conversation which had taken place in the Mayor's office regarding the very same papers of which they speak. Regina's rage. Her sudden shock upon finding out that the blonde had had nothing to do with the damning documents found while snooping.

 _Not to mention_ how _Regina had come across the papers when they had been in the Sheriff's apartment in the first place..._

Raising an eyebrow and preparing to continue his vague questioning to get to the heart of the matter, the pawnbroker frowns as Ruby trots over and hands the Sheriff a coffee which Gold doubts she's even ordered; what with the cooling dregs of her last still sitting in the cup she'd originally been nursing. The young waitress leans forward- blocking his view of her face with her hair- but he imagines she is inquiring of the blonde if everything is ok. A ridiculous notion in itself. He imagines the contrary young woman sat before him would be on her deathbed before reaching out and pleading for help. Smirking, he waits for the young brunette to pull back- ignoring the icy glare she throws him; her bright eyes tinged with ill-concealed fear- and struts back to the counter with a flounce of her short skirt.

"Everything ok, Sheriff? Miss Lucas seemed a tad concerned?"

"Fine. She just doesn't like you."

"Oh, come now, Emma, at least _pretend_ to possess a little compassion! I have done nothing wrong in the case of Miss Lucas. In the case of any of people _in_ here in fact!"

"And yet, nobody trusts you..."

"My cross to bear I fear. You, however... Why are _you_ so closed off all of a sudden? I have grown to look forward to your particular breed of hotheaded spunkiness, and now suddenly I am being treated with all ice and no fire. Why, I almost feel as though I was _Regina_..."

"Will you quit bringing the goddamn Mayor into this?!"

"Touchy subject?"

"No... Just not one I wish to discuss with you."

"I see."

Gold nods thoughtfully, continuing to study the Sheriff as she stares moodily down into her coffee. He had hoped Emma would help him sate his curiosity, but she has only served to make it grow. The fact that the blonde hadn't reacted to his query about the papers with anger that the Mayor had found out leads him to believe that Regina has yet to inform the younger woman of her discovery, and this in itself seems entirely out of character on the brunette's behalf.

 _No. Perhaps not. Not if Regina's way of dealing with such treachery was to_ act _on the matter rather than argue about it. And hadn't our fine Mayor looked decidedly distressed upon learning of Miss Swan's innocence?... A mere confrontation would hardly garner such shocked remorse... I wonder, dearie, what_ did _the sly Queen have in store for you... And why do you seem none the wiser..._

"Well, Miss Swan, I can see you have little interest in discussing the matter any further. A word of warning, though: you say that I am not to be trusted, but I assure you that I am by _far_ a better ally than the Mayor may pretend to be. Do not forget what she wants, Sheriff, which is her son to herself. Your disappearance would surely please her a great deal, and you would do well not to mistake any sudden interest in yourself for kindness. I sincerely hope you are simply keeping your friends close and your enemies closer...Particularly as you have allowed her to coerce you into such late night visits..."

The color drains from the blonde's face instantly, and she glances up at Gold with wide eyes.

"...What?"

"Oh, don't fret, dearie, your business is your own..."

He smiles. He _hadn't_ in fact jumped to any sordid conclusion before seeing the expression that currently graces the Sheriff's pale features. The fact that Emma's car had been parked at the Mayor's so late at night had been odd, most definitely, but the idea of Regina taking her games to the point of interacting with the younger woman on a carnal level had seemed too ludicrous to pay thought. Now, though... He supposes such things would make sense, and he would be hard put to deny an odd sort of appeal to the woman sitting nervously before him, but he finds Regina's methods surprising to say the least.

_Not quite so surprising as the look on her face when realising your innocence._

_And again, back to that._

_The way she reacted would suggest some form of punishment was_ already _in motion. The panic in her voice... Well... If I didn't know any better, I'd say Regina had been_ concerned _for you, Emma._

_But surely the Mayor spares you no real feelings..._

_Curiouser and curiouser._

Standing, and pulling his coat into place, Gold grins at Emma who currently looks as though she may well pass out where she sits. He leans in a little closer to her; eyes glittering as she flinches away from him with a scowl.

"Well _this_ is certainly a turn for the books..."

She offers him no response, but then he hadn't really expected her to. Straightening back up and heading for the door, he glances over his shoulder and remarks lightly.

"You can count your secret safe with me, Sheriff..."

"...Can I."

Low. Untrusting. Angry.

_Clever girl._

"Oh, at a price, dearie, at a price."

And then the queer little man is gone and Ruby is trotting over with a concerned frown as a mug of luke warm coffee shatters loudly on the floor.


	46. Chapter 46

The brunette glares at the couple that hurry past her, inwardly damning their rudeness as they veer to the far side of the sidewalk so as to avoid her. She bears no concern for the fact that they feel the need to do so, but she dislikes the way untrusting eyes roam over her with distaste. Sighing, she lets such nuisances go and continues up the ice-ridden path towards the Station. She carries twin paper cups in her hands- an order which the ditzy little waitress had found most perplexing- and as she nears the turning towards the Station, she sips delicately from the coffee held to her right.

She feels much better than she did this morning, free from the liquor that had seemed to course nauseatingly through her system until lunchtime. Henry's actions over breakfast have left her in a peculiar mood; elated and oddly humbled. She had been surprised to find out that the blonde had taken it upon herself to have a conversation with the boy, and feels a little guilty that her initial reaction- her primal reaction- had been a terrible sense of instant anger. Still, she reassures herself that such a response is to be expected after their turbulent past few months, and the fury at her son's admission had quickly dissipated into curiosity.

In truth, what she has managed to piece together of the Sheriff's actions the previous evening has left her feeling rather touched.

She doesn't feel a sense of nervousness seeking out the younger woman after the events of last night as she is simply not one to react in such a way. She imagines, if anything, Emma will be the one to harbor a small amount of awkwardness, but then this is again a mere facet of the Sheriff's character.

At the back of her mind, she allows for the fact that this all feels a little surreal; she has visited the blonde often enough, but stopping by for a companionable drink is most definitely a first. She reasons that work at the office is currently slow- negating to attribute this fact to the way the town's Mayor and Sheriff are currently not working to screw each other over- and suspects the ongoings at the Station are much the same. Storybrooke is on the whole a quiet little town, and as much as it may pain her to admit it, Emma does a fairly decent job of keeping on top of things her end.

Turning the corner onto the path that leads to the Station, she spots the younger woman instantly and adopts a small smile despite herself. The Sheriff sits on a weathered bench outside the Station with her legs crossed up on its surface, her leather jacket appearing strangely bulky due to the thick hoodie she wears beneath. For a brief moment, Regina is under the impression that she sits outside smoking, but further scrutiny allows her to deduce the wisps of fog emanating from the younger woman are simply clouds of misted breath due to the cold. Emma appears to be staring at nothing in particular down to her left, a half eaten cookie held forgotten in her hand.

Berating herself irritably for the peculiar surge of emotion this simple vision brings, the Mayor shakes her head, as though trying to corral her thoughts back into place. She stalks over to the blonde's bench gracefully, smiling when the younger woman glances up as her shadow crosses the frosted ground; long and wasted in the winter sun.

"Good day, Miss Swan."

"Hi..."

Green eyes glitter up at her curiously and the brunette takes a seat primly on the gnarled bench beside the Sheriff; her suit clad leg resting gently against the blonde's knee but neither woman seems to pay this any mind. Handing Emma the untouched cup she holds, the Mayor rolls her eyes with hidden amusement as the younger woman sniffs the proffered beverage curiously.

"I assure you it isn't going to kill you."

_Oh, what a choice of words._

Grinning sheepishly, the blonde takes a sip of the cream laden hot chocolate, licking her lips appreciatively as her eyes sparkle with good humor.

"Always better to be cautious."

"Yes... I imagine you're right, dear."

"...How are you feeling?"

"Better than I deserve to feel, I suppose. I felt a little delicate this morning, but the tylenol you left me must have been of extra strength; it took care of my headache wonderfully... Thank you."

"Ah, it wasn't tylenol..."

Blushing slightly, Emma leans to the side so as to access her back pocket- consequently pressing her shoulder against the brunette as her long hair tumbles lightly into the Mayor's lap for a moment- and pulls out a small crumpled packet with a faded sticker bearing her name.

"Percocet?"

Regina raises an eyebrow as she takes the packet from the blonde for inspection. Emma clears her throat, playing with her hair nervously.

"It was all I had... I wasn't even sure they'd still work. I got prescribed a course of them about three months before I came here, but never took them... I didn't think they'd do any _harm_ if you just took them once..."

"So you tried to _drug_ me..."

The blonde shakes her head hastily but the Mayor passes her back the packet with a smirk, her tone purely teasing.

"It's a bit of an odd thing to walk around with in your pocket, don't you think?

"They were in my jacket; must have been in there for months, but I never thought to take them out... When I took you upstairs last night I noticed them when I took my keys out my pocket... I figured it was worth a shot..."

"Worth a shot to allow me to unwittingly ingest high grade pain-killers..."

"Well, they clearly _worked_ , you said you were feeling better!"

Emma grumbles hotly, the flush at her cheeks suggesting she feels a little ashamed of what she now realizes was a rather risky course of action. Smiling at the younger woman kindly, the brunette shrugs and rests her hand on her jean clad knee.

"Indeed I am... And I want to thank you for last night... I assume Henry called you?"

"He did... Please don't be mad at him, he was just worried about you... I know he said he-"

"-It's ok... We had a little talk this morning actually..."

"You did?"

Dark eyes flicker sideways to study the blonde as Emma keeps her tone purposefully casual.

"We did... And I suppose I should be thanking you for _that_ as well."

"...Henry told you?"

"That you suggested he mind his manners a little more around me?... Something like that... I'm... I'm grateful that you feel that way, Miss Swan."

" _Emma._ "

"Sheriff."

Regina chuckles huskily as the younger woman groans and shakes her head in burlesque display of despair, watching in amusement as Emma tosses the remains of her unwanted cookie expertly into the trashcan to their right.

"Impressive."

"Well... You know..."

The blonde straightens her jacket with a theatrical show of nonchalance before breaking into a sly grin; the tip of her tongue poking impishly through neat white teeth. Rolling her eyes, the Mayor crosses her legs primly one over the other- this new position subsequently pressing her leg and shoulder lightly against the Sheriff's own- and sips thoughtfully at her coffee while Emma does the same.

"Aren't you cold sitting out here?"

"A little... I needed to think though, and sometimes the fresh air helps."

"Yes, I imagine you need all the help you can get, dear."

A soft nudge in the ribs.

Scarlet painted smile in return.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Mr Gold."

"Oh? Something I should know about?"

The Mayor's tone is silky- playful- but she is only just able to mask the scowl that threatens to settle over her refined features.

"I don't know."

"...What do you mean you 'don't know'?"

And, just like that, the pleasant mirth lacing the darker woman's sultry tone is gone as she turns to face the Sheriff with a frown.

"He came up to me in the Diner earlier to talk to me."

"Oh?"

The brunette's frown lingers, but it evolves into an expression of wary concern rather than simple possessiveness.

"...He saw my car outside your place last night."

"... I see. What did you tell him?"

"Nothing, just that it was none of his business."

".. _.Everything_ in this town is Gold's business, or so he seems determined to make it..."

Emma sighs, regarding the older woman apologetically. Regina's frown deepens as she can't quite find it within herself to berate the blonde for her carelessness. She imagines that doing so will make herself feel much better herself, but she finds she has no wish to place blame on the Sheriff.

 _Well_ that's _new..._

Running a finger thoughtfully over the seam of the blonde's jeans, the Mayor carries on in a contemplative tone.

"The man is a snake, dear... I suggest you simply strive to avoid him. He will most certainly endeavor to make you think he holds you at his mercy, but if you told him nothing, then nothing is all that he knows. Let what he imagines to be the case remain a simple inkling... And who's to say he doesn't simply suspect the truth? That the Sheriff was responding to a distress call?"

"... I guess..."

"Just be more careful next time."

"I'm sorry."

"... There's nothing to be sorry for. Just a word of warning, Miss Swan."

"Oh, I'll take it to heart, believe me!"

Smiling in amusement at the hard venom in the Sheriff's voice, Regina swallows the last of her coffee and rises from the bench; stiff with cold. She is warily perplexed at the sense of gloom she feels at the imminent loss of the younger woman's company, and forces herself to smile so as not give such peculiar emotions away.

"Well, dear, I'm afraid pneumonia is not high on my list of desires, so I think I will retire someplace warmer. Take care of yourself... Emma."

The blonde smiles pleasantly, thanking the Mayor for her hot chocolate and stretching to move inside herself. Watching the brunette's retreating form as the darker woman struts authoritatively back down the path to the main road, she gives in to sudden impulse and yells after her.

"Regina!"

"Miss Swan?"

Emma jogs over, stopping to stand before the older woman who regards her with a cocked brow.

"Have you, uh... Have you spoken to Sydney?"

"... No."

Regina's tone is laced with ice as her lips pull back in distaste.

"You probably should..."

"Sheriff, as much as I appreciate your kindness last night, I believe my interactions with Mr Glass are hardly any of your concern."

"Oh, I couldn't give a shit about your relationship with Sydney... Just... Uh... Whether or not you'd have anyone who could babysit Henry..."

Eyebrows raising in surprise, the Mayor offers the blonde a smirk as she cocks her head to one side and runs a slender finger thoughtfully over her bottom lip.

"Why the curiosity?"

"Well... Mary Margaret sent me a text earlier to let me know she was going to be staying with a friend tonight..."

Emma hesitates as the brunette's eyes flash darkly, wondering if Regina is thinking the same thing she is; that her housemate is in actual fact most likely visiting Granny's with David.

"Anyway, I kind of have the place to myself... If you wanted to stop by for a bit... Well, that'd be ok..."

Eyeing the blonde humorously, the Mayor breaks into a salacious grin as green eyes hold her gaze cooly despite the younger woman's ever awkward way with words.

"I'm sure I can sort something out."

"Ok... Cool."

"Cool."

Regina mimics the Sheriff with a smirk, raising her hand in farewell and turning to leave before the blonde sees the smile creeping across her face.

* * *

The young waitress trots eagerly towards the Sheriff's station. She has been given the rest of the afternoon off, and can think of no better way to spend it than teasing the blonde as the older woman goes about feigning irritation. Badly. She actually has some information she imagines Emma will find interesting. At least, she hopes so, as she wishes to cheer the Sheriff up after what had seemed to be a pretty shitty conversation with Gold earlier, and she suspects her news on Regina will do just that.

She had been surprised to see the Mayor enter the Diner in the first place; the darker woman only ever stopping by to discuss matters with an unsuspecting victim spotted inside. She had smiled nervously when Regina had made her way straight to the counter, and had fumbled slightly when writing down her order. The fact that the darker woman had wanted not one, but _two_ beverages had been surprising in itself, but the fact that one of those had been a hot chocolate with extra cream had been most perplexing.

Until it had dawned on her that Regina was likely ordering for Henry.

And wasn't that nice? A sure first, but one she imagines Emma will find favorable. She wonders what the Mayor would think if she knew the drink she had ordered her son is the same as that preferred by the Sheriff and grins. She doubts Regina would be impressed.

Reaching the small turning that leads to the path up to the Station, she comes to a halt. Cocking her head curiously, she frowns as she regards the blonde sat on the bench outside the Station beside the Mayor. Noting the cup in Emma's hand, she raises an eyebrow in surprise.

She watches as the Sheriff says something to the brunette, speaking animatedly. The Mayor responds to whatever the blonde is saying with a telling shaking of her shoulders, and Ruby can't quite decide if her disbelief is directed towards the fact that Regina sits companionably beside the Sheriff, or simply at the sincerity of her laughter in response to the blonde's words. Before she can come to any sort of decision, her jaw drops comically as the brunette places a hand affectionately on the Sheriff's knee and mutters something which causes the latter to smile.

Shrinking back into the shadows as Emma tosses something effortlessly into the trashcan outside the Station, the waitress shakes her head slowly.

_What in the actual hell... I thought they hated each other... I thought..._

Stumbling slightly as she moves to retreat to someplace less confusing, Ruby strives to make sense of what she has just seen. She is surprised to see Emma behaving quite so amiably towards anyone at all, never mind the absurdity that she should be doing so towards the Mayor... And the fact that Regina had taken it upon herself to buy the blonde a drink. Hell, that she'd even known what to _order_ her...

And then it begins to dawn on her.

The way Emma has remained continually evasive when questioned about who it is she could be going out to see. The way green eyes dart nervously around the room when teased about her mystery companion.

_I didn't think you did dresses, either, but look who's suddenly all fancy! Seriously, you look like you should be hanging out with the Mayor!... Oh my god!_

_What?!_

Ruby lets out a low gasp as she recalls the way the blonde had seemed to jump as if electrocuted upon misunderstanding her suggestion.

"Oh my _god_..."

Rubbing her temples distractedly, the waitress makes her way stiffly back to the Diner.

By the time she reaches the door, her traumatized expression has been replaced by a secretive smile, and she slips past Granny into the back with a flourish, shaking her head in bemusement at her friend's peculiar choice in company.

"What on earth are you _thinking_ , Emma..."


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Lyrics at the beginning are not mine, they're from Lana Del Rey's 'Off to the Races'. Enjoy!

_"Likes to watch me in the glass room, bathroom,_

_Chateau Marmont. Slippin' on my red dress,_

_puttin' on my make-up. Glass room,_

_perfume, cognac, lilac, fumes,_

_Says it feels like heaven-_

-Fuck... _"_

The Mayor smirks as the blonde's muffled singing tapers off instantly at her loud knock on the door. She had considered waiting until the younger woman had finished the song- both to sate her intrigue and to save the Sheriff from embarrassment- but only briefly.

_After all, where's the fun in that._

Teasing her hair back distractedly, the brunette waits as light footsteps hurry towards the door and the shoddily painted wood is pulled briskly open.

"Hey!"

Regina's smirk broadens as she regards the blonde with glittering eyes. Emma stands expectantly in the doorway, her hair held back in a messy ponytail and looking pretty in a simple black t-shirt, a large grin plastered to her face.

"Good evening, dear."

The Mayor smiles pleasantly as the younger woman steps back to allow her into the apartment, and she surveys the large, open planned room curiously. She has visited the flat on several occasions- most recently when she had come across the papers left by Gold- but somehow this time feels very different. With the night sky pressing up against the windows, the room has been lit by a multitude of small lamps in various locations, creating a dusky yellow glow which illuminates everything in a most flattering manner. An ancient looking stereo sits on the kitchen island and continues to play soft music, and a number of candles flicker pleasingly on the windowsill. Most notable of all however, is the heat. The winter air outside has been well and truly thwarted as a couple of small blow-heaters work their magic in the corner.

"It would seem you aren't as mad as I first thought, Miss Swan."

"Huh?"

Emma regards her curiously as she takes the heavy coat and jacket the brunette holds out to her, green eyes flickering over the indigo sleeveless blouse buttoned low on the darker woman's enviable frame.

"Your choice of wardrobe, dear; December is generally not the time for such skimpy attire, but you appear to be running a sauna up here... One would almost assume you were trying to get me naked..."

She expects the Sheriff to roll her eyes or stammer something unintelligible, but Emma surprises her by swinging her fist into the palm of her hand and grinning cattily.

"Damn! Busted."

"A crude trick, Sheriff."

"Maybe, but it seems to be working!"

"Don't get cocky now, dear."

"Oh, come on, a hot woman walks into my apartment and I have her undressing before she's even sat down! You've got to give me _some_ credit..."

"A 'hot woman'?"

"Smoking hot."

" _Really_ , dear..."

Regina tries hard to hide her amusement, inwardly deciding that she quite likes this rarely seen side to the blonde; surely a result of the younger woman being a little more at ease on her own turf. Shaking her head and taking a seat at the dining table, she watches with a smirk as Emma hurries back into the kitchen and pulls herself up onto the countertop so as to reach the back of the top shelf to one of the cabinets that line the walls. When she swings effortlessly back down, she holds two expensive looking wineglasses, and she blushes slightly as she realizes the action has caused her jeans to ride down a little, a strip of pale flesh marring her otherwise dark ensemble.

"To be honest, there wasn't really a great deal of cunning behind it; the heating's busted and neither of us have gotten round to calling anyone in to fix it. I brought down the heaters from Mary Margaret's closet but I couldn't get them to work without making this weird whining noise, so I kicked them a little-"

"-Of course you did, dear."

"Yeah, well, they _work_... It's just I think I must have broken the temperature dial or whatever the hell you call it, because the left one now refuses to blast anything but full heat."

Emma shrugs in a way that suggests 'such is life' and the brunette raises an eyebrow.

"And it hasn't occurred to you to simply turn _off_ the one on the left?"

"They switch off at the mains."

"And this is a problem because...?"

The blonde points to a chaotically overloaded outlet- the amount of wires heading this way and that a little concerning- and the brunette rolls her eyes as she takes in the way the identical leads to the heaters form a haphazard tangle of impressive proportions.

She muses to herself that the image before her sums the younger woman up perhaps better than she ever could verbally.

"You see the problem? So, we'll just have to spend the evening half naked!"

"Promises, promises..."

The Mayor teases as her eyes linger on the tantalizing swatch of bare flesh at the younger woman's hips. Following her gaze, Emma grins sheepishly and pulls down the hem of her top to narrow the gap. The brunette negates to inform her that in doing so a small sliver of her bra has come into view.

"Well, behave nicely and who knows what you'll get..."

"A bold insinuation."

"Call it whatever you like... Your move."

The blonde quips with a flash of teeth as she turns to fetch a bottle of wine from the fridge. Returning to pour them both a generous glassful, she holds her drink out to the brunette who studies her intently before clinking it with her own.

"To good health?"

"To whatever you like, I just want a drink!"

Emma sips from her glass as the Mayor shakes her head with a husky chuckle. She captures an escaped droplet as it trickles down the stem of her glass and licks it deftly from her finger.

"One second, I just need to take dinner out of the oven."

"You cooked? Well in that case I'm glad I wished for good health!"

"You want to go hungry, Regina?"

The brunette raises a brow challengingly, smirking at the Sheriff's glower. She leans forward in her seat so as to gain a better view of the younger woman as she crouches down by the oven to check on its contents. Poking around in the darkness with a metal skewer, the blonde seems to deem whatever cooks inside to be done and reaches up for the oven glove which rests by the sink.

"Smells good."

Regina doesn't bother to keep the surprise from her voice as she watches the Sheriff place the heavily laden oven tray on a heatproof mat and plate up a selection of various roasted vegetables with quick skill. Emma disappears behind the door to the fridge for a moment, before returning with two packets of goats cheese and some honey. Crumbling the cheese over the root vegetables and drizzling over a fair amount of honey, she proceeds to douse the plates with a small lashing of balsamic vinegar and some cracked black pepper. Padding to the table with the plates, she lays one to rest before the Mayor before taking up her own seat opposite. Regina raises an eyebrow and surveys the food before her with surprise.

"... You can cook?"

"You sound shocked?"

"I just never imagined you to be adept at something so domestic."

"... I'm going to take a guess that you assumed I live off take-out, pizza, cereal and frozen dessert?"

"And Mary Margaret's cooking washed down with a six pack."

The brunette adds silkily; deciding to rise to the bait rather than admit out loud that she appreciates her assumptions had been rather narrow minded. Emma rolls her eyes, spearing a piece of sweet potato onto her fork and regarding it thoughtfully.

"Tell me, Regina, do you also picture me sat in an overstuffed armchair wearing a string-vest and watching porn, or is it just in the _kitchen_ you see me in such a complimentary way?"

"... I can't say it's a scenario I've pondered until just now- especially one key part of _that_ little scene which I'm now having trouble erasing from my mind-... I didn't mean any offense, dear, I'm just surprised... This is exceptionally well seasoned...It's good."

She shrugs, taking a sip of her wine as she watches the blonde blush in response to her reaction on the mention of imagining the younger woman watching porn. Eyes glittering when Emma glances up with a mischievous grin, she sits back in her chair and waits for the Sheriff to share what has her suddenly looking quite so deviously amused.

"Actually, I'll let you in on a little secret. There's only seven meals I really know how to cook, so I've just learnt to perfect them in order to impress and deceive... It's worked well for me so far!"

She points to the darker woman's plate which shines with just a few leftover smears of glaze and smirks.

"And what about when you have to cook for someone for the eighth time?"

"Ah, that's why I never stick with anyone for more than seven dates!"

Pink tongue flashing through sharp white teeth, the younger woman laughs huskily. The brunette regards her with interest, sipping delicately at her wine as she watches the blonde swipe a finger through a drizzle of honey to the side of her plate.

"Is that true? You've never been with anyone longer than seven dates?"

"Actually... Real 'dates'? Then, yes... But it has little to do with my cooking."

"I see..."

"What about you?"

"What _about_ me, dear?"

Regina inquires tetchily, causing the Sheriff to roll her eyes as, yet again, all questions seem to have somehow been diverted towards her alone.

"You must have had lovers in the past? Not counting Graham."

"Miss Swan..."

Low. Irritable. Warning.

"It's just a question, Regina."

"... Yes, I have had relationships in the past. Only one of note, however."

"Oh? Who was that?"

"Why don't we discuss that after _you_ tell _me_ the story of Henry's father..."

"... Don't."

The blonde sighs irritably and gets up to clear the table. The Mayor watches her silently, acutely aware of the sudden tension that fills the room. She supposes she should apologize- fully aware by her tone that Emma's question had been nothing more than polite curiosity- but she doesn't want to say anything more on the matter. To her relief, the Sheriff seems to be thinking the same thing, as she promptly returns from the kitchenette with a large bowl of what looks to be- at first glance- nothing more than cream.

"Eton mess; numero dos of my repertoire. Well, the meringue pieces are anyway."

"Good god, I can practically feel my arteries clogging."

The blonde chuckles, and moves to serve up the dessert into two smaller bowls. Acting with uncharacteristic childishness, the darker woman lunges forwards when the Sheriff leaves to deposit the serving bowl in the sink, and steals her dessert slyly from her place at the table. Returning to her seat, Emma frowns, before glancing up at the brunette and noting both the Mayor's smirk and the fact that she now has two bowls in front of her.

"Hey!"

"Something wrong?"

"Give it back!"

Dark eyes shining with mirth as she watches the Sheriff lean forwards across the table, Regina swipes her finger daintily through the heavy cream and holds it up before her with a feigned expression of confusion.

"Oh... Did you want some?"

Smirking, she extends her sweetened finger out to the Sheriff. For a brief moment, she wonders if Emma will refuse to play along- the blonde's expression wary as she regards the glistening offering held out to her- but then the younger woman leans forwards and runs her pointed tongue deftly through the cream.

"Delicious."

The brunette mutters as her eyes find the Sheriff's and she wills the younger woman to lean further still, moving a little herself so that she closes the gap between them and tastes the sweetness of the cream on the blonde's lips for herself.

Peeking beneath sooty lashes as she deepens their kiss, the Mayor scoops a handful of her dessert slyly into her palm before smearing it purposefully over the Sheriff's exposed neck and clavicles. Her eyes glitter superiorly as Emma jerks back with a cry.

"What the hell?!"

The blonde glares at her incredulously and the darker woman chuckles sultrily, pushing herself up from her seat and stalking quickly around the table to stand before the Sheriff. Emma studies her curiously, before reaching up and pulling the Mayor firmly down onto her lap. Smirking, the brunette moves so that she straddles narrow hips and searches lust-darkened eyes with her own. Pulling lightly on golden curls, she hums in approval as the blonde tilts back her jaw to expose the cream slathered down the column of her throat.

"Shit..."

Emma lets out a sharp gasp as the brunette's tongue slips over a particularly sensitive spot at the hollow between her collarbones, and entwines her fingers loosely within dark tresses. Dropping her hands to run her fingers playfully up the Mayor's thighs, she finds her hips and pulls her closer. Regina nips sharply at glistening pale flesh, before finding the blonde's lips once more and rewarding her passionately as the latter begins to undo the delicate buttons of her shirt.

Pulling away the light material to expose the brunette's scant purple bra, the Sheriff unhooks the unwanted garment easily before running a wet trail down between the valley of her breasts. Regina groans and leans back, enjoying the blonde's pleasurable attention before taking the younger woman's roaming hands in her own and standing to guide her up.

"You're sure Miss Blanchard isn't going to come walking through that door any time soon?"

"Positive."

The Sheriff's response is hoarse and breathless and the Mayor takes a moment to enjoy the rapid rise and fall of her chest before she closes quickly in on the blonde and backs her up against the wall; surreptitiously flipping the small frame depicting the younger woman with her housemate that rests upon the shelf beside them to face the other way.

"Well then..."

She presses herself up against the blonde; hands running up beneath the Sheriff's t-shirt as the younger woman works the clasp of her dress pants eagerly. Allowing the crisp material to fall down around her feet, the brunette flicks the pants neatly away with the toe of her shoe as her fingers wander beneath the blonde's bra and she presses her bare thigh against the apex of her jeans.

"Up, dear."

Regina beckons as she pulls at the younger woman so as to reach behind her and unclasp her bra. She slips emerald lace out from beneath black cotton as she continues to grind her leg against Emma's Levi's. The blonde growls, her hands finding the soft silk of the Mayor's underwear and plucking it hurriedly down slender legs as the latter fiddles with the button to her jeans. Tugging the rough denim down the Sheriff's thighs, the brunette pulls gray cotton swiftly aside and dips her finger sweetly into the younger woman's heat as the blonde plays her hands skillfully across pert breasts; hot breath tickling the Mayor's throat.

Pushing the blonde against the wall with a little more force, Regina increases the pace of her fingers; smirking into the younger woman's hair as she lets out a low mewl. Using her palm to grind against sensitive flesh, she bites at the blonde's throat before hissing harshly into her ear.

"Thank you for inviting me..."

Emma lets out a sharp cry as her legs shake, before finding purchase of the darker woman's lithe frame and switching their positions with surprising ferocity. Playing slender fingers teasingly over waiting flesh, she grins when the Mayor snaps at her to quit messing around and takes heed of her request; moving them swiftly between wet folds as she seeks out kiss-swollen lips with bruising force. Deepening her kiss savagely as the brunette begins to tremble against her, she allows the older woman to ride out her pleasure, before moving her lips up to the Mayor's flushed cheek and muttering huskily into the perfect shell of her ear.

"Thanks for coming."


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, lyrics not mine. 'Someone kill the DJ'- by Greenday.

" _Someone kill the DJ,_

_Shoot the fucking DJ,_

_Hold him underwater,_

_'Til the motherfucker drowns_ -"

"Ruby... Do you mind? _Kind_ of trying to work here..."

"You're the one playing the music!"

"Uhuh, and when you learn to sing in time and/or in tune, you're welcome to come serenade me... Until then, please- _oh please-_ quit murdering the song quite so loudly!"

"Aw, you're no fun!"

"I'm the Sheriff; I'm not _supposed_ to be fun."

"Ah, you're alright... At a pinch."

"Touching."

"What are you even doing?"

"Writing up the report for Miss Ginger's noise complaint."

"...Isn't she your neighbor?"

"And? What are you implying?"

"Nothing! Nothing... I thought you were doing the reports yesterday?"

"Yeah, I started, but I got a little sidetracked."

"I see."

The blonde glances up at the waitress with a frown, watching as she swings herself lazily round on the swivel chair opposite the table. The brunette's teeth are bared in a wolfish grin and her eyes glitter with mischief.

"What's tickling you?"

"Nothing..."

"Ruby..."

"You just seem to be getting 'sidetracked' a lot lately."

"Meaning?"

"That it's no wonder you keep complaining you're tired; I would be too if I was getting the amount you seem to be getting..."

"Ruby!"

"What? I'm just saying... You know, it's probably the reason you passed out the other day; too much of a good thing..."

"I already _told_ you, I must've just had a funny spell or something!"

"You did... Doesn't mean I can't think otherwise!"

"Fine, think whatever you want, just shut up and keep it to yourself!"

Emma looks back down at the job at hand irritably, tapping her pen distractedly against her teeth. Ruby sighs, but her eyes continue to shine with good humor; too used to the Sheriff's often prickly ways to be thrown off quite so easily.

"You would think someone who got laid last night would be in a slightly better mood..."

"Oh for fuck's sake! Will you let it _go_? How do you even- You have no _clue_ what I was doing last night!"

"Not specifically no, and I'm cool with being spared any details, but I can recognize a cat that got the cream."

"You're full of it."

"Am I? I ran into Mary Margaret last night as she was making her way upstairs with David Nolan to 'hang out'- yeah, I know, her story sucks- which means that _you_ had the apartment to yourself, and I'm willing to bet you took full advantage of that fact... Tell me, Miss Swan, am I right?"

The Sheriff jumps at the waitress's use of her last name, causing the latter to giggle pleasantly. Rolling her eyes, Emma finally desists her futile attempt to ignore the brunette and leans back in her chair, regarding the younger woman with cool bemusement.

"Remind me to start locking the door to my office?"

"You can't, you're the Sheriff, and can I take that as a 'yes'?"

"Yes. Fine. Yes."

"I knew it!"

"Good for you."

Ruby laughs, wheeling herself closer to the desk so that she can rest her elbows on its surface and leans in close to the Sheriff's face.

"So..."

"So what?"

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Ruby... Give it a rest."

"Aw, come on!"

The waitress pouts pleadingly, jerking back with a laugh as the blonde flicks at her lip sharply with her finger. Smiling at Emma, the brunette shrugs her defeat, deciding to cease her incessant probing before the Sheriff's mock irritation becomes the real thing.

"Ok, I'll stop... Although I don't know why you're being so damn secretive and grouchy about it if this person is making you so happy!"

"I guess I'm just a bitch?"

"Sorry, nope, don't buy it... Whatever. If you're happy, I'm happy."

"...Thanks."

"And without bugging you for any more details, did you at least have fun last night?"

"... Yeah, I did. It was good...I made dinner."

The blonde blushes slightly, eyes downcast resolutely to the paper in front of her as she ignores the waitress's crow of delight.

"I thought you said you were going to stop?"

"Ok, ok, I will! Actually, I'd better be going anyway, I need to start getting things set up for lunch."

"Thank god."

"Oh stop it, you love having me around."

"So young, and _so_ delusional."

"You're a terrible actress."

"And _you're_ a terrible waitress; it's quarter to twelve!"

"Shit!"

It's Emma's turn to laugh as she watches the brunette stumble slightly in her hurry to get out of her chair. Sitting back and pulling her long hair into a messy knot, she regards Ruby with amusement as the younger woman wrestles with her coat.

"Just tell Granny you were helping me fight crime and serve justice."

"I doubt she'd be impressed; she'd rather I was serving customers."

"Odd... What with it being your job and all..."

"I know, right!"

Finally wrapped up to face the winter chill, the brunette offers the Sheriff a small wave as she takes her leave. Debating the act briefly, she decides to throw all pretense out the window- taking solace in the fact that Emma will unlikely be able to catch her in her current position- and grins cattily over her shoulder.

"By the way, should I tell the Mayor you like cinnamon on your hot chocolate next time she stops by and orders you one?"

"...Huh?"

"I just think she should know, if this is going to become a regular new aspect of your relationship."

"Wait, _what_?"

"Just something to think about, but I need to go. Bye!"

"Wait, Ruby, come back! _Ruby_!"

The blonde jumps out of her chair, smacking her leg painfully against the desk, and hurries off after the waitress as the younger woman bolts from the Station. Panting as she reaches the main door, Emma yells after her frantically; Ruby turning round and jogging backwards to reply.

"Ruby! What the hell are you on about?"

"I think you know!"

"No, I _don't_ know! enlighten me!"

"I think you're nuts, Emma!"

"What? Ruby!"

"But like I said, if you're happy, I'm happy!"

"Ruby, wait! Please!"

"Can't! I'm late for work! Later!"

" _Ruby!_ "

Eyes wide as the younger woman disappears from view with a final wave of her hand, the Sheriff falls back against the door with a groan, shaking her head in disbelief. Massaging her temples distractedly, she tries to remain calm.

She has no clue how in the hell the young brunette has come to possess her apparent knowledge, and finds herself in somewhat of a moral dilemma. She likes Ruby a lot- an awful lot, truth be told- but trust is not something she comes by easily, and despite her friendship with the waitress, she can't quite settle the fear creeping nauseatingly in the pit of her stomach that the younger woman will let something slip. She doesn't believe it would be a malicious action, and she reassures herself with the knowledge that the waitress has- to her knowledge- kept silent over finding her locked suspiciously in her own damn cellblock, but she can't quite shake her concerns.

"How the fuck did you figure _that_ one out...?"

Stalking stiffly back into the Station, she enters the small kitchen and makes herself a cup of potent black coffee, sighing as she wishes vehemently for something stronger.

* * *

"Regina."

The Mayor turns briskly outside Granny's; searching for the source of the voice calling out to her. With a frown, her eyes come to rest on the old pawnbroker who sits at one of the small tables outside with a steaming cup of tea.

"Gold."

Stalking over, she takes a seat opposite him, raising an eyebrow in silent request that he make his reason for hailing her over to the table known.

"You're looking well."

"...Thank you."

"Must have slept well the last few nights?"

"...No more or less so than usual. What do you want, Gold?"

"Oh, I was just mulling something over in my mind and thought you might be able to help me."

"Oh?"

"It pertains to our dear Sheriff."

"What about her?"

"She and I had a most _peculiar_ conversation the other day, did she tell you that?"

"Why would Miss Swan tell me such a thing?"

"Oh, I don't know, I just wondered if it had come up in passing."

"I try to refrain from spending any more time with the Sheriff than is absolutely necessary."

"A wise choice. And yet... That isn't strictly _true_ now, is it, dearie?"

"I can assure you it is."

"Curious then, that the young Sheriff's car should be parked outside your house in the middle of the night..."

"It isn't _my_ fault the idiotic woman mistook a game played- albeit foolishly- by my son as a genuine distress call. Believe me, Sheriff Swan is not someone I take pleasure in seeing during working hours, so to have to put up with her coming round to my own _home_ was most unfavorable."

"If you say so. I must say... I _am_ surprised to see the young woman looking so well..."

"Is she?"

"Oh yes... She's quite the pretty little thing, as I'm sure you'd agree-"

"-Hardly-"

"-And she was looking nothing short of radiant when I saw her last... Of course her determination to greet the day with a scowl detracted from this somewhat, but yes, on the whole, I'd say she looked very well."

"Fabulous, and you're telling _me_ this because?"

"Oh, for no reason, dearie, I was just confessing my surprise... Following the altercation in your office the other day, well... I had just assumed the young Sheriff might have subsequently found herself in a spot of bother..."

" _You_ were responsible for those papers, Gold, not Emma."

"Perhaps... Still, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little surprised at your reaction to her innocence. Whether she requested those papers or not, I was under the impression you viewed the Sheriff with distaste, and yet... You seemed almost _concerned_ upon finding her blameless."

"If that's your perception..."

"It is... Although I suppose in _your_ eyes, Miss Swan could hardly be considered blameless in _any_ respect."

"Yes, well, my opinion of the woman is my own."

"...Indeed."

The brunette frowns as Gold surveys her with glittering eyes; the air thick with a sense of malice and her breath seeming to hitch every now and then in her throat. She is wary of where this conversation is headed, unsure exactly as to the pawnbroker's motives, but certain that they are surely twisted.

She glances up distractedly as the ditzy young waitress trots outside to clear the tables in her ridiculous heels, her eyes shining with unkind amusement at the way the younger woman's sordidly bare legs seem tinged almost blue with cold.

_What on earth does Emma see in you..._

Returning her gaze to Gold, she fusses with her hair primly; lips pursed in distaste.

"Did you actually want anything, Gold, or do you honestly believe that I _enjoy_ such chitchat."

"Oh, I don't want anything. Not from you, anyway."

"What do you mean, 'not from me'?"

"Well, it's not _you_ I have a deal with now, is it?"

"What deal?"

"Oh, nothing that concerns you, dearie. The Sheriff merely owes me a favor. I suppose I was pondering this fact and got sidetracked."

"... She owes you a favor?"

"Indeed."

"... And what might that be?"

"Oh, I'll think of something when the time's right, nothing to worry yourself about."

"Forgive me, but your favors are not generally something to be taken lightly."

"Why, whatever are you referring to, Madame Mayor?"

"...Nothing."

Nodding, the peculiar little man takes a sip of his tea as he continues to watch the Mayor raptly. Regina frowns, disturbed at the knowledge that the blonde has at some point managed to in-debt herself to the landlord.

"You seem troubled?"

"No. Just confused as to why you're telling me all this."

"No reason... Just letting my words get away from me it would seem. I suppose I had wanted to let you in on how things stood as I had mistaken your recent behaviour as strangely favorable towards Miss Swan. One is sure to jump to conclusions when they find out about such late night visits after all."

"...I have no interest in the woman, nor in what trouble she has found herself in with yourself-"

"-Because if you _were_ to find yourself ill at ease with the fact the young Sheriff was foolish enough to make a deal with me, I would find myself beginning to wonder if perhaps you harbored a small amount of care for the woman."

"I-"

"-And if _that_ was the case, I would also wonder just what you would be willing to _offer_ me to relieve the Sheriff of her burden."

The brunette shrinks back with a hiss of distaste as the pawnbroker leans conspiringly towards her, his curiously dry scent assaulting her senses.

"Your business with Miss Swan is _your_ business. I have no interest in the Sheriff's well-being..."

"I don't believe you, dearie."

"Then you are a fool."

"And _you're_ a liar."

"How _dare_ you-"

"-You think I'm blind to how things have changed? You think I would be telling you all this if I simply wanted someone to talk to? You care for the woman, and that puts me in a very advantageous position, Madame Mayor-"

"-You're insane-"

"-Her car was at your house. And I don't believe for a second that our fine Sheriff was there on a distress call. I-"

"-Can I get you anything else?"

Gold glances up furiously at Ruby who has come to stand beside their table with her pen and paper at the ready. Shooing her away with a flick of his hand, he returns his attention to the Mayor. Regina glares at the young brunette as she remains stood where she is, raising an eyebrow irritably.

"Miss Lucas? Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all, Madame Mayor, I'm just glad you're ok!"

"...Why on earth _wouldn't_ I be?"

"I thought you were in trouble the other night? Emma and I were out by the Station when she received a call on the police radio to come to yours right away? I trust it wasn't anything serious?"

"She received a call on the police radio?"

Gold inquires with a frown; regarding the waitress and thus missing the Mayor's own perplexed expression.

"Well, yeah... She figured it must have been something pretty serious or you wouldn't be calling her... Given how you guys have this problem with each other... No offence..."

"...None taken... Everything's fine. Henry called her as a joke... I guess he didn't realize how irresponsible it was to do so on her police radio."

Ruby smiles, expressing that she's glad all is well before trotting back inside. Glaring back at the pawnbroker who remains with his brow furrowed at the waitress's words, the brunette takes her leave; snapping at him that he can mind his own business the next time he conjures up such fanciful ideas of friendship.

Stalking into the Diner, Regina spots the waitress up at the counter and makes her way over warily.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You weren't with the Sheriff. She doesn't even _use_ her radio."

"But Mr Gold doesn't know that..."

Dark eyes flashing as the brunette frowns, she studies Ruby intently, trying to grasp an understanding of her current situation.

"But why lie to him?"

"I wasn't the _only_ one lying..."

"Just _what_ are you insinuating?"

"Nothing... Look, Emma's my friend, and you're her... I just don't trust Gold."

"But you're trusting _me_?"

Low. Incredulous. No pretense at feigned civility.

"I'm trusting Emma."

Shrugging as though disinterested, Ruby offers the brunette a nod of farewell and disappears into the back, leaving the Mayor staring after her stunned.


	49. Chapter 49

"Oh, no! Oh fuck! Stop it! _Stop it_!"

The young brunette buries her face into the blonde's chest as the latter laughs huskily.

"Um, Ruby... You're kind of... Could you get off me?"

The waitress shakes her head, remaining safely pressed into the comforting warmth of the Sheriff. Emma rolls her eyes, shuffling back awkwardly and pushing the younger woman away with a giggle.

"You're such a goof!"

"Oh, _I'm_ sorry! Just because I don't want to watch some guy get his _face_ cut off! Why the hell would anyone do that?! And look! _Look_! What's _she_ doing now!... Wait, she's not going to... No... No way... Oh fuck! Gross!"

The waitress covers her eyes with a groan as the blonde simply guides a heaped spoonful of Cherry Garcia into her mouth and raises an eyebrow at the latest scene of bloodshed to grace the screen. Deeming it safe to lower her hands from the lack of tortured cries, Ruby regards Emma curiously before returning her attention to the movie; her heartbeat frantic.

"Why do you _watch_ this stuff!?"

"It's a good movie."

"Well... It's better than the one we watched the other week... At least there's no shoving of sharp objects into places they have no business being shoved!"

"...It's not the end of the movie yet..."

The Sheriff grins cattily at the apprehensive glance the waitress throws her, inwardly wishing the younger woman would quit leaning quite so close; Ruby's shoulder pressed firmly into her ribs as the brunette leans companionably against her and hugs her legs up onto her lap. Sighing, she uses her spoon to point to the case which rests on the table, speaking through a mouthful of creamy dessert which detracts slightly from her purposeful scholarly tone.

"No, Miss Lucas, the Devil's Rejects is of a much higher caliber than Cannibal Holocaust, I can assure you. Just look at the lighting, the filming, the superior acting. The direction is beautifully done and- _oh!_ I like this part, look at that arterial spray!"

Rolling her eyes, the brunette gives the Sheriff an amiable jab in the shoulder, absentmindedly twisting pale curls around her finger as she continues to watch the movie with an occasional grimace.

"You know, she kind of looks like you."

"Who?"

"Baby."

"You think so?"

"Well, older, but yeah."

"Hmm, good to know I have options for the future! She's a lot prettier than I am."

"Nah, not really, and also she's a _serial killer_ , Emma, could we maybe focus on _that_ being the problem in the comparison."

"Oh, right, yeah, sorry... Probably not the best role model."

"You think!?"

"Whatever, her boots are cool."

"Yes, because that's something you're in _desperate_ need of; more boots..."

"You want to be wearing ice cream? Keep talking!"

Ruby shrieks as the blonde accosts her with a newly loaded spoon, batting her arm away as the older woman chuckles huskily. Throwing Emma a murderous glare, she tosses back her hair as the movie's protagonists dig into a similar frozen treat on the screen.

She had been keen to come and see the blonde; a little shaken by the intensity of the conversation overheard in the Diner, and more than a little curious as to what Emma's reaction to being caught out would be. She had sent the Sheriff a text while cleaning up after lunch, asking if the older woman wanted to hang out for the evening. When this had gone unanswered for several hours, her stomach had started to knot itself nervously; worried that she had perhaps ruined their friendship with her brazen admission to knowing the truth. At around five o'clock her phone had hummed quietly in her pocket however, and she had been relieved to receive one of Emma's typically curt texts.

_Fine. Bring Provisions. No health stuff. E_

The coldness of the message hadn't really thrown her; used to the blonde's nihilistic tendencies with the written word. Still, as she had stood outside the Sheriff's apartment with a paper bag bearing ice cream and beer- a sure way to get back on the older woman's good side!- she had wondered how Emma would react to her earlier antics. To her surprise, the blonde had pulled open the door with a grin; taking her coat amiably enough before beckoning her over to the sofa with the friendly request that she join her in watching what she had referred to as 'only one of the best movies ever!'.

Now, as the bloodshed finally draws to a close, she studies the Sheriff intently out of the corner of her eye as the blonde nibbles at the pink mush on her spoon appreciatively; eyes glued to the screen and nodding her head slightly to the beat of the music accompanying the final scene. Waiting for the credits to roll, Ruby clears her throat and pushes herself away from the blonde so that she sits with her back pressed against the armrest of the sofa, her long legs still resting lightly in the latter's lap.

"So..."

"So what?"

The waitress rolls her eyes with bemusement, drinking in the sudden defensive rigidness to Emma's posture as the blonde pointedly remains transfixed on the screen as though her life depends on discerning who acted as key grip for the movie.

"Are we going to talk about it?"

"...Why?"

"Well, because you're my friend... And you're dating the goddamn _Mayor!_ "

"We're not 'dating'."

"And she's terrifying..."

"Sometimes."

"And she's... Well... I didn't know you even... You know..."

"Didn't what? Go on?"

"She's a woman."

"Your powers of observation are simply extraordinary. What do you want? A fucking cookie?"

"Emma..."

The blonde sighs, finally twisting in her seat to regard the waitress moodily.

"I don't _know_ , alright? I don't know what you want me to tell you... I don't have much of a clue on all of this _myself_... How did you even find out?"

"I came by the station yesterday and saw you two sitting outside."

"Oh."

"But... I mean... Ok, look. I don't get it, I'll tell you that right now... The woman scares the shit out of me and I doubt I'm alone."

"She's not like that if you get to know her."

"Hey, I'm not saying she is! I just... I'm just surprised is all... After everything you two have been through, you know?"

"You and me both, Ruby."

The brunette lets out a sigh of relief as green eyes look back at her in confusion. Confusion she can take. She can understand. She's just relieved the blonde doesn't seem angry with her. Shuffling a little closer, she offers the Sheriff a kind smile, proceeding carefully.

"You said yourself though that you were happy?"

"...I am."

"Well then... I guess it doesn't _matter_ if you can't make sense of some stuff."

"... No."

Emma offers up her own crooked grin, brushing distractedly at her cheek; completely bewildered and wondering why in the hell her eyes are watering. Letting out a small, pained huff of air as the brunette launches forward and encircles her waist, she sniffs awkwardly, clearing her throat as the younger woman's hair tickles her nose.

"Could you... Could you not do that?"

Ruby pulls back sheepishly, her bright eyes wretchedly kind as she smiles at the Sheriff, causing the blonde to cast her own eyes down to her lap.

"You can't tell anyone, ok?"

" _I_ won't... But..."

"But what?"

Suddenly the Sheriff's tone is hard, laced with panic as she glances up at the brunette sternly.

"But _what_ , Ruby?"

"Look, don't freak out, ok, but when I was working earlier, Gold was at the Diner and he called Regina over when she was walking past... I didn't hear everything, but... I think he kind of knew something... And I'm guessing by the look on your face right now, you had a suspicion he might?... He was trying to get Regina to admit to what was going on... He said he saw your car outside her house and that he believed you were there because... Well... You were seeing her for 'non-business' reasons... Umm... He was telling her something about a deal, but I don't really know about any of that... He just seemed to be stirring the shit..."

"Fuck!"

"I, uh, I kind of stepped in a bit..."

"You _what_?"

"Well... After teasing you this morning I was pretty sure that I was right about you and the Mayor... Personally, I find Regina to be nothing but bad news, but, as you said, I don't know her all that well... I just saw it as two people having an argument and one was beginning to make things a little too threatening... I simply went over and asked her if she was ok."

"...I bet she _loved_ that."

"Ha, nope! I explained I meant ok in general... After having been out with you when you received the distress call the other night on your police radio..."

"On my what?"

"You know, that piece of technology you were told to have with you at all times when you started the job that you use as a paper weight?"

"Ruby..."

"I just told her I presumed it must have been something serious if she was calling _you_ , given that you two don't like each other... I assured her I meant no offence..."

"You... But you weren't with me when Henry called...?"

"No shit, Sherlock! I'm guessing he didn't call the damn radio either!"

"But... Regina _knows_ that..."

"Yes, but _Gold_ doesn't!"

"You... Oh my god..."

"Whatever Gold _thinks_ he knows... I'd guess he's having second thoughts right about now."

"You... Are incredible..."

Ruby lets out a pleasant yelp as the blonde suddenly throws herself at her, giggling as she wraps her arms tightly around the Sheriff's slim form. Smirking into blonde curls, she adopts a high pitched crow of delight, her eyes sparkling with good humor.

"Oh my god! Is Emma Swan _hugging_ me?!"

"Shut up."

The Sheriff mumbles into the brunette's shoulder before pushing herself briskly away and sniffing with an ill-attempted air of disinterest. Letting out a small noise as her emotions continue to overwhelm her, she pushes back her hair as she regards the waitress in disbelief.

"I... I can't believe you did that..."

Ruby smiles, shuffling round so that she sits beside the blonde and throwing an arm companionably around skinny shoulders.

" _I_ can't believe you cooked dinner for the fucking Mayor!"


	50. Chapter 50

"Yes?"

The brunette snaps distractedly as she looks up from the papers littering her desk. Eying the door with distaste as it swings heavily open, her furrowed brow softens only slightly as she Sheriff allows herself into the office in a sweep of red leather.

_God, I wish I could burn that damned coat._

"Miss Swan?"

"Hey."

Emma smiles tentatively and points to the chair opposite the Mayor's. Raising an eyebrow, Regina nods and gestures that the younger woman should take a seat. Watching as the blonde makes her way over and sits down, it occurs to her that this is the first time in weeks that the Sheriff has come to see her for what is presumably business; badge glittering brightly atop dark denim and the younger woman's long hair tamed into some sense of submission.

"What can I do for you?"

"Uh... I was kind of hoping we could talk."

The brunette freezes, her eyes widening as she regards the pale woman warily. She has never imagined Emma as one for 'talking' as it were, but with recent events, she finds the notion a little worrying to say the least.

"...Okay... What seems to be the problem?"

The blonde blinks at her in confusion, before shaking her head and twisting in her seat so that she sits with her knees pulled up childishly in front of her.

"No problem... Just... Just something I guess we need to discuss... If that's okay?"

Regina shrugs as through disinterested, but she lets out the breath she'd not realized she'd been holding in quietly and nods for her companion to continue.

"Ruby came round mine last night to watch a movie."

"Oh."

"She mentioned you spoke with Gold."

"I did."

The brunette sighs, leaning back into her chair and regarding the younger woman levelly.

"Gold approached me with a similar question to the one he asked you; why your car was parked outside my house so late at night. I tried to cover your tracks- and mine- but he seemed a little... Unimpressed, shall we say? Your little friend came over to intervene..."

"I know, she told me."

"Yes... Well..."

"And from what she told me, she did a pretty decent job of throwing Gold off..."

"Only because she's an _idiot_ and he would never expect an ounce of cunning from the little strumpet!"

"... It wouldn't kill you to be grateful, you know..."

"Sheriff, the day I shower that young woman with gratitude will be the day I admit myself to a mental hospital! She-"

"-She _what_? Regina? She what!? She was just trying to help!"

"Well, she wouldn't _need_ to help if you hadn't been foolish enough to park your damned car outside my house!"

"...Seriously?"

The brunette frowns and struggles to regain her temper, dark eyes flashing as she watches her Sheriff visibly raise her guard. Finding the younger woman's wary green gaze, she studies her intently before letting out a defeated sigh and staring down at the table. She feels ashamed for her sudden outburst, but she cant shake the feeling of irrational dislike the young waitress summons from her.

 _You know how I feel about Ruby. Know how I feel about the time you two spend together. Why_ her _? I understand she's only trying to help... But why does it have to be_ her? _... So eager to rush to your aid... And in a way I couldn't this time..._

Pulling a hand through her hair, she regards Emma tentatively, keeping her voice low and placating when she continues.

"You know I didn't mean it like that..."

"Do I?"

"Emma..."

"...Don't say things like that then, if you don't mean them."

The blonde huffs irritably, but the Mayor doesn't miss the hurt note in her voice. Tapping her fingers lightly against her thigh, the brunette nods, sighing.

"I'm sorry."

"Ok."

"... I was... I was unaware Miss Lucas knew we were on any degree of amiable terms...?"

"Yeah, well, so was _I_ until yesterday..."

"Oh?"

"She saw us outside the Station the other day... She's been badgering me for weeks over who I keep blowing her off to see... I guess some of her ideas must have come together seeing us clearly getting on so well when we thought no one was looking..."

"I see."

Regina steeples her fingers delicately beneath her chin, regarding the Sheriff curiously.

_Have you really? You've blown off the young brunette to come see me?_

Something about the thought makes her spine tingle. She tells herself to stop being foolish- that of _course_ the younger woman would make such sacrifices in the simple hopes of sex- but knows well enough that this isn't the case. Offering Emma a small smile, she lets out a low sigh of relief when the blonde reciprocates.

"I'm guessing she confronted you about it?"

"Yeah, although 'confront' probably isn't a fair way of putting it... She made some comments when she left the Station yesterday that put me on edge because she clearly knew _something_... When she came over last night she asked me straight out if we were going to talk about it... I didn't really tell her anything, just stopped pretending she was wrong... I told her I made you dinner..."

The Sheriff blushes furiously and the Mayor can't quite decide whether to roll her eyes or smirk. She feels a peculiar churning deep in her stomach at the thought of Emma sharing anything about their decidedly rocky relationship with the waitress- as though their ups and downs are simple locker-room talk- but she knows the blonde well enough to suppose she's unlikely to be quite so blasé.

"And... What does Miss Lucas think?"

"She thinks I'm crazy for cooking the Mayor dinner!... She... She's a nice girl... I know you don't like her, and I'm not going to argue about that... But... She basically said that so long as I was happy, she was happy..."

"A good friend after all, then."

Regina states quietly. The Sheriff has spoken correctly; she doesn't like Ruby, and she doubts she ever will. Of course there are past trespasses to take into account, but she is wise enough in herself to know that what it all comes down to here is the fact that _Emma_ likes Ruby. She is a little taken aback however, by the slight quiver in the younger woman's voice, and she sighs as she is confronted, yet again, with the fact that she feels a small sense of sadness over the blonde's obvious lack of previous companionship.

After all, it is something with which she can sympathise.

"Well, I suppose what's done is done."

"She won't tell anyone..."

Emma appeals as she regards the Mayor nervously, and Regina shakes her head; dark eyes flickering with well-hidden fear as she is inwardly hit with the realization of just how much she's come to like the young woman sitting before her.

_Damn._

_I mean,_ lust _for her, yes, ever since the day of the storm. Possibly even before that; she's an attractive girl. But_ liking _her?_

Yes. Liking her. Caring for her. But _liking_ her also.

"Come here, dear."

The blonde raises an eyebrow in confusion as the darker woman beckons her with a gracious sweep of her hand. Rising from her seat and making her way curiously around the table to stand before the brunette, she lets out a small noise of irritable incomprehension when Regina pulls her gently down onto her lap.

"What are you doing?"

Ignoring Emma's obvious puzzlement, the Mayor simply pulls at her until she instinctively settles to straddle linen dress pants.

"Umm..."

The look of pure confusion on the blonde's face as to how their small argument has ended with her sitting on the brunette's lap has Regina smirking as she reaches up and cups pleasantly warm cheeks.

When Emma leans forwards to brush her lips gently against the Mayor's own, the older woman happily lets her, as such an act comes almost naturally now. She doesn't deepen the kiss however, but plays her fingers gently through long hair, and closes her eyes to better appreciate the simple feel of the blonde's reassuring weight on her lap. Tugging gently at cornsilk tresses, she waits for the Sheriff to sit back and return her gaze before continuing in a more serious tone.

"Gold mentioned you made a deal with him..."

"He did?"

Regina watches as a frown graces pale features.

"Is he wrong?"

"No... I just don't see why he'd bring that up when talking to you..."

"You _did_ make a deal with him then?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"-Oh, Emma..."

"What? He was trying to take that girl's baby. Her fucking _baby_! I just... I asked if I could make a deal instead... I mean, what's there to lose? I don't have anything he'd _want_... Well... Apart from power the job gives me, but... What... Why are you looking at me like that?"

Pushing blonde curls away from the younger woman's face as Emma peers down at her, Regina links her hands loosely around the Sheriff's waist as she frowns pensively.

"Gold's a force to be reckoned with, dear. You may not have seen evidence of that yet, but I promise you, he's more than just an old man with cane. You don't want to be owing him anything... _I_ don't want you to be owing him anything... And that's what might prove problematic."

"How?"

"Well, the reason the little wh- Ruby pitched in was due to the old goat running his mouth about what he thinks he knows about you and I... _You_ may not have anything he wants- at least, I would hope not- but if he finds out his assumptions hold some truth... _I_ am in a less advantageous position."

"Why, what would he want from you?"

The brunette studies the blonde with glittering dark eyes, her blood thrumming a little faster in her throat at the hard steel that laces the Sheriff's suddenly protective tone. Lowering her hands from the younger woman's waist to rest over the firm flesh of her backside, Regina swallows, the blonde's green-eyed scrutiny intense in its demand for an answer.

"He and I have a rather complicated history... The less he has to hold over me, the better, dear. I can't express seriously enough how bad it would be should he find out about- and use- my affection for you to play as his upper hand."

"... A-affection for me?"

Emma blinks in surprise, tensing visibly and the brunette rolls her eyes, fingers playing lightly over rough denim.

"Oh, come on, Miss Swan, let's just call a spade a spade... You drove over to my house late at night to make sure I was alright after a simple phone call suggesting otherwise. You took me to bed, you made me dinner, hell, you even scrubbed me up in the shower... And I have done similar things for you. So yes. I possess an element of affection for you... Quite a large one at that... Which Gold _must not_ find out, do you understand me?"

"Okay."

The Mayor's eyes flash with surprise as cheap leather suddenly encircles her neck and the blonde presses a decidedly clumsy kiss to her brow. Finding the younger woman's waist once more, she instinctively wraps her arms around her as tightly as she can.

Finally, Emma pulls back a little, her cheeks stained a delicate pink as she smiles timidly.

"I, uh, well I guess I clearly think you're not all that bad either..."

"Always the poet..."

"Oh, go fuck yourself!"

Regina smirks, the Sheriff's tone free from any real irritation as she grumbles amiably.

"Now why would I do that, when I have you sitting so very nicely in my lap?"

The brunette raises an eyebrow coyly and laughs at the peculiar innocence that crosses the blonde's features as she opens her mouth in surprise. Taking advantage of such an opportunity, the Mayor brushes her mouth against parted lips sensually, smiling when unmistakable lust replaces the younger woman's odd moment of chasteness.

"Well, now that's out the way, will you please remove that... Hideous... Monstrosity... Of a... Jacket."

The brunette mutters against soft lips, alternating each word with a kiss. She smirks as the Sheriff complies; the younger woman never once breaking contact as she blindly wrestles off obnoxious red leather and tosses the garment distractedly to the floor.

"Better?"

"Hmm, I suppose you'll do..."

Regina quips coquettishly as she searches out the Sheriff's velvet tongue; frowning when Emma pulls away to study her. Rolling her eyes, she opens her mouth to admonish the younger woman for being quite so goddamn touchy some of the time, but the latter's gaze silences her; green eyes flickering about her face intensely.

"... I won't let him hurt you, you know."

The Mayor shivers as her breath catches in her throat, the blonde's voice low and dangerous. Pulling the younger woman back towards her, she finds her throat and grazes pale skin gently with her teeth before soothing reddened flesh with her tongue. Speaking quietly into the Sheriff's heavy curls, she lets her arms come to rest around the younger woman's slender frame.

"Don't make promises you can't keep..."


	51. Chapter 51

_"Don't make promises you can't keep..."_

"Huh?"

Emma pulls back a little, glancing down curiously, but the Mayor shakes her head, simply guiding pretty pink lips to her own as she nips at sweet, supple flesh. The brunette smirks appreciatively as the Sheriff lets out a low whimper, running her hands up beneath the soft white cotton of her tank top to explore the ridges and planes of her spine.

"What did you say?"

The Sheriff breathes huskily as she uses her own slender fingers to force back the darker woman's jaw, running the tip of her tongue teasingly down the column of Regina's throat as she moves herself a little to straddle the brunette's hips more forcefully.

"Nothing, dear..."

The Mayor sighs, her hands cupping twin blades as the blonde's shoulders ripple like angel wings beneath her fingers. Finding the narrow clasp to the younger woman's bra, she relinquishes her of the garment briskly, before running her hands up the latter's taut frame beneath her shirt to palm coyly at her breasts.

"Didn't _sound_ like nothing..."

"Hush..."

Biting down aggressively at the Sheriff's collarbone, she earns herself sweet silence as Emma tenses blissfully in her lap. She soothes the cruel indentation of her teeth with her tongue, sucking gently at the mark and earning herself a low chuckle.

"You know, if we're supposed to be being careful, it may be an idea if you stop bruising my throat quite so often..."

"Wear a scarf..."

The brunette mutters, smirking at the regretful note to the blonde's suggestion. Biting down a little harder out of pure spite, she smiles against sweet flesh as Emma wriggles frantically on top of her, seeming to alternate between trying to force her gently away and pulling her closer. Eventually, the Sheriff leans back fully; stomach visibly taut beneath the thin cotton of her shirt as she engages her core to keep her steady at her newly acquired angle. Her eyes flicker with amusement and she admonishes the Mayor with a playful grin.

"Regina..."

"Don't pretend you don't like it."

"I never _said_ I didn't _like_ it..."

The darker woman raises a brow, studying the blonde coyly as the latter continues to regard her coquettishly beneath sooty lashes. Pushing at slim thighs, the Mayor attempts to lift the Sheriff up onto the desk, but they are of a similar weight, and in her current position she simply doesn't possess the necessary strength. Emma gets the gist however, and swings herself easily off crisp linen; hopping up easily to perch on the edge of the Mayor's desk with a curious glint in her eyes. Running her finger thoughtfully over her full lips, Regina regards the younger woman appreciatively, her voice sultry and rich when she speaks.

"I suppose I'll just have to find another spot to taste you..."

She expects Emma to blush furiously and respond in her usual clumsy manner, but she recognizes the dark pools of the blonde's pupils from when the younger woman has previously been aroused and knows that, curiously, it is in this state of playful limbo that the Sheriff tends to become a little more eloquent, however sordid her words may be.

"Do your worst."

It is a simple statement, not particularly kinky when taken out of context, but the Mayor wets her lips with her tongue as the younger woman proceeds to lean back a little and slowly plucks up the material of her shirt to expose the pale expanse of her stomach. Smirking devilishly, the blonde raises an eyebrow as the darker woman pulls herself forwards in her chair to sit closer in a curiously business-like manner.

"Careful what you wish for, dear."

In her current position, the brunette sits comfortably between the Sheriff's parted thighs, her eyes level with the blonde's flimsily covered breasts. Reaching round to grip at pert denim, she scoots the Sheriff forward just a little- smirking at the small yelp the younger woman makes as her hands flail behind her for purchase- and runs her tongue teasingly a few inches above the waistband of her jeans.

"Hey! That tickles!"

Regina chuckles huskily as she glances up to see the blonde biting her bottom lip in an attempt to stop herself from laughing. Continuing to skim soft skin to dip in at the younger woman's navel, she smirks victoriously as Emma thrashes and tries to get away; her throaty laughter filling the room pleasantly. Taking a twisted form of pity on her prey, the brunette's dark eyes flash dangerously and she nips sharply at the Sheriff's flesh without warning.

" _Ah_!"

The brunette pulls away quickly, studying the blonde in amusement. She knows her companion well enough by now not to confuse her pained yelp with a lack of pleasure, and her thoughts are quickly concluded when green eyes gaze down at her lustfully. Running her tongue purposefully over the small red mark she's created just left of the Sheriff's navel, she maintains eye-contact intently until she bites down once more in a flash of perfect white teeth. This time she uses a little more force, clamping hot flesh at the blonde's ribs between her teeth and flicking her tongue lightly over the imprisoned area.

"Holy shit..."

The younger woman has her eyes squeezed shut, her breathing rapid as she continues to hold a hand to her chest to keep her top up and out of the way. Taking opportunity of her element of surprise, Regina hones in with vicious intent; biting down savagely at the taut skin that lines the blonde's hip bone with a force that is dangerously close to drawing blood. She keeps her teeth firmly in place as Emma thrashes and kicks; determining her insistence to keep going from the way the Sheriff hisses pleasurably, her fingers tapping out idiot rhythms on the desktop as she squirms madly beneath the brunette's ministrations.

Increasing the pressure until she tastes a slight tang of copper, the Mayor cries out in surprise as the blonde's writhing has her suddenly toppling off the desk to land in a heap on the floor in front of her. Unsure whether to laugh or roll her eyes, the brunette waits curiously to see how the Sheriff will react, dark coals glittering as she licks away the sweet residue of the younger woman's blood from her bottom lip.

"Are you alright, dear?"

She smirks as Emma pops up to glance up at her in a tangled mess of curls, patting the forearm which comes to rest amiably on her thigh with sarcastic sympathy.

"That good was it?"

"I reckon I could substitute that for you slobbering on my neck, sure."

"Miss Swan, I do not- nor will I ever- 'slobber'..."

The Sheriff grins at the darker woman's defensively perturbed tone, shrugging wickedly. The Mayor regards her casually, content as Emma plays her fingers lazily over the crisp material of her dress pants.

"Are you planning on getting up at anytime, dear?"

"Hmm... in a little bit..."

Regina raises an eyebrow before letting out a small gasp as the Sheriff boldly moves her hands to the clasp of her pants and parts the expensive material briskly to expose black lace. She stares down at the blonde silently as the younger woman gestures almost casually that she should lift her hips. She supposes it is Emma's sudden aloofness that has her complying without a second thought, lowering herself back down once the blonde has pulled light linen deftly down to pool at her ankles.

"What are you doing?"

"Well... While I'm down here..."

The brunette lets out a low hum as the Sheriff plucks the lace of her underwear to the side and offers up a teasing swipe of her tongue.

"Sheriff... Emma... I-I'm supposed to be working."

"So work. I'm not stopping you."

Green eyes glitter as the younger woman smirks up at her wickedly and the Mayor can't help but feel that their roles have switched with almost nauseating speed. Not that she's really complaining.

"It's a little hard to concentrate with you fooling around down there..."

"Oh no...That's too bad... Sorry."

Regina smirks, the blonde not sounding sorry in the slightest, before letting out a low groan as slender fingers dip sweetly into her wetness and the warm velvet of the younger woman's tongue whispers across her flesh.

She leans her head back blissfully, musing over the image they must create. There is something almost regal about the way she sits upon her chair- her throne- with the Sheriff knelt between her legs that both empowers her and disturbs her. Entangling her fingers within pale curls, she hums quietly; trying to dispel thoughts of herself as the Queen and simply enjoy the moment.

"That doesn't sound like working..."

Regina glowers incredulously down at the blonde but the younger woman pays her no mind, simply changing her rhythm after muttering against hot flesh. Rolling her eyes despite the telling flutter beginning low in her stomach, the brunette tugs at soft curls irritably, her thighs flexing as she spreads them a little wider.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?"

She gasps as the Sheriff slaps her lightly on the inner thigh as punishment, closing her eyes as her legs begin to tremble and she feels herself falling over the edge.

"You... You're a piece of work, Miss Swan."

She mutters breathlessly as she runs her fingers lightly through the blonde's messy hair. Finally coming down from her high, she regards the younger woman with pink-cheeked amusement as the latter remains knelt between her legs companionably. Emma shrugs with a grin, tossing back her long curls as she speaks.

"So I've been told..."

"I was supposed to get these papers finished by lunchtime..."

"I'm-"

"-You're _not_ sorry!"

"Nah, you're right, I'm really not. That was far too much fun..."

Tapping the blonde briskly on the nose, the Mayor grumbles at her irritably to get up, pulling her chair closer to the desk and re-stacking the papers that have become somewhat crumpled during their activities. Watching the Sheriff out of the corner of her eye, she clears her throat as the blonde makes to leave with a self-satisfied smirk plastered to her pretty face.

"One moment, Sheriff."

"Huh?"

"Here, if you please."

The Mayor beckons authoritatively with her finger and waits for the blonde to comply and return to stand beside her in confusion. Pulling the younger woman down abruptly, the brunette finds her lips passionately; kissing her deeply to taste herself. Releasing the Sheriff, she offers her a small smirk as she flutters her fingers in farewell.

"Good day, Miss Swan."

"And a good day to _you_ , Madame Mayor."

Regina shakes her head in amusement as the blonde takes her leave, her eyes flickering briefly to the small red stain that mars the Sheriff's top at her hip and smiling pensively.


	52. Chapter 52

"Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing much, I'm just calling to check in."

"To 'check in'?"

"Yeah, don't get your panties in a twist though; it's just an expression."

"Oh, they're not twisted."

"Probably a good thing."

"Sounds painful."

"Depends what you're into I guess."

"If you say so."

"What are you up to?"

"Just having dinner."

"Ugh, jealous, I'm still at work! What are you having?"

"Uh... fruit salad?"

"Fruit salad? _Really_?"

"Yeah."

"You? _You're_ eating a fruit salad?"

"Well, it's more just grapes really."

"Just grapes?"

"Yeah."

"...Are they fermented by any chance?"

"Uh..."

"You're having wine for dinner, aren't you?"

"... Maybe."

"Emma!"

The blonde chuckles as she sips at her glass, pulling her feet up underneath her on the old threadbare sofa. She reaches beside her to pluck a few M&Ms from the bowl on the side table- the idea of a 'snack bowl' an odd concept revered by her housemate and one which she suspects has been racking up a serious grocery bill since she's moved in- and tosses them expertly into her mouth; her words muffled slightly by the colourful chocolate.

"I've got candy too though, so it's all good."

"That's not a _meal_ , you idiot!"

"Says who?"

"Me. I'm coming over."

"Oh no you're not!"

"Am too! I have a fridge-load of quiche that needs to be eaten. It's stilton and broccoli; probably the closest you're gonna get to eating any sort of greenery."

"Shut up, I eat vegetables all the time."

"Fries don't count."

"Shit, what _are_ you, my mother?"

"Nope; your concerned friend, armed with quiche and a movie."

"Oh god, please tell me we're not watching some Bridget Jones type crap."

"Oh, you mean a movie that was nominated for an Oscar? Or are we only watching movies vouched for by Billy Hammer or whatever his name is?"

"Billy Chainsaw, and no, I just don't want to watch some girl bawling her eyes out about her pathetic love life."

"You should be a counsellor, Emma, you really should."

"Oh, bite me!"

"Nah, I'll pass, besides, you already have someone to do that for you-"

"-Ruby!"

"What?! Am I wrong?"

"I am _not_ discussing this with you-"

"-over the phone? Right, got it. I'll be over in an hour or so and you can tell me _all_ about it then."

"You _know_ I'll leave you standing outside my building, right? I'll do it!"

"Yeah, but I _also_ know that Mary Margaret gets in around the same time and _she_ won't."

"You think?"

"Nah, she's too nice."

"And that would make me?"

"A bitch."

"Charming!"

"Ah, you know I love you really!"

"Christ..."

"And from that heartfelt response I can tell you're just head over heels for me, too!"

"Why do I put up with you?"

"I just told you! I'm irresistible! Now go pour a second glass of wine and I'll see you in a bit!"

Rolling her eyes and chucking the house phone back in its cradle, the Sheriff grins and stretches cattily. She pads lightly into the kitchen to check the fridge; already having worked her way through the majority of the wine that rests on the coffee table and silently hoping Mary Margaret has thought to buy more. After rummaging around various shelves with growing doubt, she has a cunning epiphany; checking the salad drawer and finding a bottle of chardonnay hidden amongst the carrots.

"Clever, but not quite clever _enough_!"

She smirks, immensely pleased with herself. Pulling herself up onto the kitchen counter- _God, why must that woman store everything so high up?! And I'm fucking_ taller _than her as well!-_ she snatches down two more glasses with the intent to place them in the fridge to chill. Swinging herself back down, she winces at a sharp ache low on her hip. The pain is not entirely unpleasant, but a quick inspection of the area confirms that her acrobatics have served to open up the shallow graze left by the Mayor that afternoon.

"Ah well, badge of honor."

She grabs some kitchen towel and blots it on the bar of soap that lies beside the sink, rubbing at the laceration to her hip indifferently in an attempt to save her shirt from becoming stained. A sharp rap at the door has her jerking back in surprise, and she swears loudly as she hits her elbow on the countertop and drops the slightly reddened towel.

Making her way over to the door, she wishes- not for the first time- that they were in the possession of a peephole; not really all that fond of surprise visits. Opening the door just enough to peer through, she raises an eyebrow in surprise.

"Regina?"

"Good evening, dear."

The brunette breezes past her without waiting for an invitation, and the Sheriff follows her distractedly, feeling suddenly like a guest in her own apartment.

"Were you... Were you wanting something?"

"That, Miss Swan, is an interesting question, don't you think?"

"Uh... I guess... Look, not that I don't want you here or anything but-"

"-Miss Blanchard is due home within the hour?"

"Yeah."

Emma shrugs apologetically, before carrying on in a strangely timid voice.

"Actually, Ruby just called to say she was coming over and I think the three of us are going to watch a movie..."

She's not sure what brings her to make this little confession, but there is some small part of her that is intuitive enough to know that the Mayor will be upset should she find out about such a meeting of her own accord. Smiling tentatively, the blonde pulls back her hair into a loose ponytail, her eyes bright behind her glasses; an item of attire saved only for wearing when in her apartment and one which the brunette loathes to admit she finds strangely sexy.

"I... I'd ask you if you wanted to join, but..."

"I would rather choke down a mouthful of dirt, Miss Swan."

"...I'll take that as a 'no, thank you', shall I?"

Emma grins amiably, white teeth flashing as her cheeks dimple, and the darker woman doesn't hesitate to wipe the expression off her face as she steps authoritatively forwards and claims the blonde's lips with her own.

She has found herself distracted since the Sheriff left her office that afternoon; overwhelmed at the uncharacteristic good humor that had been shared- untainted- between them, and she has not let it go forgotten that she never _did_ get around to finishing what she'd started when nipping playfully at tempting pale flesh. Speaking quietly against parted lips, she keeps her hands firmly laced around the younger woman's waist, her breath heavy and gaze deep.

"How long before your merry band of assholes shows up?"

"... Forty five minutes, give or take."

"You're sure?"

"I- I think so..."

"...Best play it safe."

And with that she pushes the blonde forcefully against the kitchen island, delighting in the surprise that alights the Sheriff's face. She moves quickly, roughly, viciously, and she has the younger woman's jeans and underwear halfway down her thighs before the latter can even take in what's happening. Pressing Emma firmly into the beaten wood, she enters her with two slender fingers, causing the blonde to cry out in shock.

There are elements to the brunette's current savagery that bring back thoughts of their less than consensual tryst back in the Sheriff's Station, but these memories only serve to highlight the difference in the Mayor's actions in the here and now to back then. It doesn't go unnoticed by the blonde that Regina wets her fingers swiftly with her tongue before her attack; an unnecessary precaution, but a precaution just the same. Nor does she miss the way the brunette rests her hand on the hard surface of the kitchen island, creating a buffer between gnarled wood and her tailbone as she slams into her forcefully.

"R-Regina! Fuck!"

The Sheriff's hands flutter madly between clawing behind her at the island's counter top to keep herself steady and clinging desperately to the Mayor as the darker woman maintains her relentless pace.

"Fuck! Stop! No, wait, actually don't!"

Regina chuckles huskily, doing her best to brush at soft lips, but with the way the younger woman squirms beneath her this is no easy feat. Sensing the Sheriff is close to peaking, she slams her weight roughly against the blonde; acting as a support as the Sheriff comes undone.

As with the darker woman's style of ministration, the blonde's climax is violent almost to the brink of pain, and the Mayor removes her fingers quickly, folding the Sheriff within an oddly protective embrace as the latter shakes weakly. Stroking sweat dampened curls, Regina smirks against the flushed flesh of Emma's cheek, holding her tight as the younger woman's tortured breath tickles her throat.

"I do hate to leave things uneven..."

"That... That was _so_ far from settling the score, Regina..."

The brunette smiles, the blonde's hoarse muttering heavy with exertion but free from any signs of irritation or anger.

"Then it looks like you'll just have to think of a way to repay me, dear!"

"Oh, god, not this again!"

But Emma's words are tainted with laughter as she pulls her jeans up shakily and pushes her hair from her face.

"I suggest you hop in the shower, Miss Swan; you have a very rosy 'just fucked' look about you."

"You are pure evil, you know that?"

"... It has been said."

Dark eyes glitter in surprise as the blonde claims a decidedly soft kiss from scarlet lips and the Mayor steps back with a small smile.

"Enjoy your evening, dear. I know _I_ will."

The Sheriff's eyes widen at this rather ambiguous statement and she clears her throat shyly. Accompanying her guest to the door, she bids her a passionate goodnight, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright.

* * *

Regina makes her way briskly down the building's shabby staircase, her manner purely business-like. She is curiously surprised by herself, and her willingness to allow Emma to enjoy her evening's proposed activities without a little more fuss. She _could_ put this down to the fact that she is logically aware that what the Sheriff does on her own time really isn't any of her business, but she knows her own heart well enough to recognize that she is a woman to whom envy comes with painful ease.

No, however twisted the idea may be- and she'd be the first to admit it- she appropriates a sly smirk as she knows for a _fact_ that the young blonde isn't going to be thinking about anybody else for a while.

Least of all the promiscuous little waitress.

_Possessiveness is a risky business... Particularly where the Sheriff is concerned... You would do well to keep such thoughts from becoming obvious to the young woman herself...She has made it clear she regards the young brunette with no carnal intent... Best to keep any form of jealousy hidden if it can't be disposed of. Emma is not the sort to see such envy as flattering._

Yes, she supposes such precautions would be wise. She can't deny, however, the beautiful sensation of elation that spreads warmly through her body at what has been a day of simple enjoyment with the younger woman, even _with_ her ominous request to 'talk'. In fact, that they have ended this evening on such good terms _despite_ that... Well...

Smiling, she makes her way swiftly to her Benz parked a block and a half away, oblivious to the dark coals that follow her every movement.


	53. Chapter 53

The two dark haired women are already sitting comfortably in front of the small television set sipping companionably at glasses of pinot grigio by the time the Sheriff makes her way downstairs. Her hair hangs in damp curls from the shower and she is clad in obnoxiously yellow pajama pants decorated with small black bat symbols beneath a rather skimpy black tank top. Pouring herself a fresh glass of wine- noting appreciatively that several unopened bottles stand patiently on the counter thanks to her housemate- she pads over to where the others sit with a yawn.

"Oh, look, you dressed _up_ for the occasion and everything!"

"Emma, you shouldn't have."

She happily flips her companions the bird and moves to perch on the nearest armrest; the sofa being relatively small and a rather cosy fit for three.

Rolling her eyes, the waitress grabs at the blonde's waist firmly and yanks her down with a gleeful grunt, the Sheriff landing ungracefully half on and half off the younger woman's lap whilst wedged uncomfortably against the side of the sofa. Glaring at the schoolteacher as Mary Margaret chuckles at her expense, she and Ruby wriggle around so that Emma's ass no longer presses up against the brunette's hip.

"So what _are_ we watching then?"

"Snow White."

"...Seriously?"

Mary Margaret laughs at the look of pure disgust her housemate offers the screen and pulls down a throw from the back of the sofa and shakes it out over the three of them.

"It's the new one, Snow White and the Huntsman, it's not quite so 'Disney'... You never know, you might like it! It's supposed to be good."

"I just can't fucking stand fairytales."

"Just think of it as homework! Henry will be thrilled you're doing a bit of 'research'!"

"Research?"

The brunette looks to the other two curiously and Emma shakes her head.

"Never mind. Look, I _know_ the story of Snow White, okay, same as I know pretty much all the other stories. I just hate the whole princess business, and the macho guys that fuck everything up and the sickening morals! 'Be good. Be nice. Be virtuous'... How about you shut the fuck up Cinderella and concentrate on getting some shoes that fit! If the damn slipper _only_ fit _her_ foot- and don't get me started on _that_ \- then why the hell did it fall off in the first place?! I mean- what... Why are you looking at me like that? Stop laughing!"

She reaches across the waitress and jabs the raven headed woman in the ribs causing Mary Margaret to cry out in a mixture of pain and laughter. Gathering herself, the schoolteacher offers the blonde a grin as she shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, I've just never seen you get quite so passionate about something before. It's just a movie, Emma."

"I know! I just... Okay, here's the thing. You have your decent fairytales; your Pocahontas, your Mulan, your Hercules, where the women aren't all running around acting like idiots and waiting for some asshole to come save them. Then you have your mind-numbingly annoying ones featuring your damsels in distress; your Sleeping Beauty, your Cinderella, your Snow White."

"Oh, I don't know, I think there's something quite _beautiful_ about those stories."

"Well now _there's_ a surprise-"

"-It's not a case of the women being 'idiots', it's about their belief and their faith in true love and that it will see them through the obstacles they have to face."

"Yeah, uhuh, being idiots, that's what I said."

"Oh, Emma, you're such an ice queen!"

The waitress laughs; draping her arm merrily around the blonde's shoulders as the latter grumbles moodily beneath her breath

"Just start the damned movie..."

"Ah! One sec! I'll go plate up the quiche! Sorry, Ruby, I forgot."

"No worries."

Ruby leans amiably into the Sheriff so that the schoolteacher can free herself from the confines of the sofa and giggles at the way the blonde subsequently veers away to the point of causing herself discomfort. Whispering quietly into golden curls, the waitress grins as she allows the older woman a little more space.

"I can see why you like the Mayor; I imagine she's just as opposed to friendly physical contact as you are."

"Ruby!"

The brunette smirks at the venomous hiss in her ear but she rests her head momentarily on her friend's shoulder to express no intended malice. To her surprise, Emma's eyes flicker briefly over to assure her housemate's preoccupation with their dinner and she whispers back jovially enough.

"You have her all wrong, you know. Our good Madame Mayor isn't _completely_ impartial to a little sugar."

"Oh my _god_! Did you just even _say_ that!"

"Shh! I might have. But I'm not saying it again, so..."

" _Oh my god_! After the movie you _have_ to tell me more!"

"Nope. That's all you're getting."

"Emma..."

"Hey, I'm just defending the fact that she's not quite as, I dunno, 'cold' as she can come across..."

"Awww..."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Ha! I'm guessing _that's_ what drew you two together! Your icy exteriors and your acidic tongues!"

"Ruby, I mean it, enough! And... Hey!"

"Hey what?"

Mary Margaret enquires curiously as she returns to the sofa with three plates balanced precariously in her arms. The blonde and the brunette exchange a brief glance before the former shrugs and reaches out eagerly for her food.

"Nothing, Ruby's just under the impression that I have an 'acidic tongue'..."

"Well, that's just _one_ of the things I have to say about your tongue given what- _Ah_!"

The waitress's eyes water as she massages her thigh where slim fingers have pinched bare flesh and she abruptly quits her muttering in the blonde's ear.

"Oh, grow up you two! Ruby, stop saying whatever it is you're saying to Emma. Emma, stop pinching Ruby."

The raven headed woman admonishes with mock agitation as she depresses the 'play' button on the remote and squeezes herself back into her seat; pulling the throw back over the three of them as they eat and drink in attentive silence, the eery light of the television screen flickering over pale faces.

* * *

"Regina."

The Mayor freezes as she makes to take her keys out of her purse, her car a welcomed blockade between herself and the untrustworthy man that stands facing her on the pavement.

"Gold. What do you want?"

"Visiting the Sheriff at _home_ now are we? Business meetings not able to wait until morning?"

"How did you... Yes. As a matter of fact there _were_ a few urgent matters Miss Swan needed to know about."

"I see..."

Flipping her hair back irritably, the brunette purses her lips and spits out her words poisonously.

"You 'see' what? If you have something to say, then say it. I need to get home to Henry."

"Ah yes, but of course. I would so hate to keep you from the ones you love."

"... Meaning?"

"Oh, nothing, dearie... I just find your trip to our lovely Sheriff's humble abode to be rather... Fascinating... After our little conversation the other day."

"... You're still on that? Well, then I'm afraid I'll have to tell you the same now as I told you then. I can't stand the woman. But, alas, she is the Sheriff, and there are certain communication requirements between herself and I."

"Spoken like a true politician."

"If you say so. Now, excuse me, I have no time for this, my son will be expecting dinner."

"I apologize. Once again it seems as though my words and mind have slipped away from me. I was merely on my way to visit Miss Swan and I suppose your presence surprised me. You take care now, Regina."

The Mayor offers a curt nod, but she finds herself unable to slip into the plush confines of her Benz. Dark eyes glittering fiercely she keeps her voice low and neutral but demanding.

"It seems Miss Swan is rather more popular this evening than one would believe she deserves. What did you want with her?"

"That's _my_ business, dearie... Why the curiosity?"

"A simple question, I assure you. Anyway, she has company, you'd be better off waiting until morning."

"Oh, it will take only a moment. I merely wish to remind her of our little... Situation. I believe I might have found a befitting way for young Emma to repay her debt to me."

"Which is...?"

Gold's eyes flash with glee as he studies the brunette as she struggles to maintain her poker face; the Mayor's hand gripping at her car door in a white-knuckled fist.

"As I said, that's _my_ business. Go home to your boy now, he will be wanting his supper."

Regina regards the old pawnbroker levelly before opening the door to her car fully with a sniff. Dark eyes blazing, she warns him darkly.

"Well, whatever your business may be with her... Understand this; if any harm comes to Miss Swan as a result of this 'deal' you have made with her... You _will_ be held accountable... And I'm telling you that as the Mayor speaking in regards to this town's Sheriff, before you jump to any of your fanciful ideas."

"Ooh, your anger! It's giving me _shivers,_ dearie!"

"... Then I suggest you _think_ about my anger and what I am capable of before you hobble up to that decrepit little flat, Gold. Good day."

Slipping into the dark leather interior of her car, she switches on the ignition and guides the vehicle smoothly on its way, her eyes cast up to the rearview mirror where she watches the little man's mouth form a hateful smile.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: When I first posted this chapter, a friend of mine requested an illustration based on the scene below. This can be found on my tumblr which is spookshowbabyx :)

Waving goodbye to Henry as the small brunet makes his way up the path to Archie's office, the Mayor turns around to survey the street pensively. Her dark eyes flicker towards the Diner opposite, but she swiftly looks away as Ruby trots outside to clear tables; not wishing to have anything to do with the young waitress. Glancing up at the clock tower, she muses that eleven in the morning is probably enough time for the Sheriff to have gotten herself up and out of bed despite it being a Saturday, and she sets off in the direction of her apartment. She wishes to see the blonde anyway, but she is anxious to know what became of Gold's visit the night before.

Entering Emma's apartment building, she makes her way up the stairs, wondering if Mary Margaret is still going to be flitting about, but guessing the schoolteacher is probably out with her own love interest.

 _Let's not use_ that _term again..._

Raising her hand to knock on the door, her breath catches in her throat as she notices several large chips gouged out of the wood around the handle. Leaning in to inspect a little closer, she realizes the door isn't completely shut at all; its lock hanging at a curious angle. Eyes flashing with an immediate sense of fear, she raps loudly on the flimsy wood anyway, hoping she's just missing something blindingly obvious about the situation.

"Miss Swan?"

No response. Trying the door again, she beats her knuckles against flaking paint with a little more force, causing the door to creak open of its own accord. Swallowing, she steps hesitantly across the threshold, scanning the room anxiously before letting out a sharp gasp as she spies the blonde lying strewn out on the sofa. Hurrying over, Regina barks out the younger woman's name pleadingly but garners no reaction. Leaning over the Sheriff, the brunette shakes her by the shoulder urgently, letting out a high-pitched cry as the latter jerks with a start and scrambles away in a flurry of flailing limbs; her hand making painful contact with the Mayor's cheek.

" _Ah_!"

"R-Regina? What the hell are you doing?!"

Emma cries breathlessly, yanking her earphones out and regarding the older woman warily as she strives to ease her rapid heartbeat.

" _Me_? What on earth are _you_ doing?! What happened to your door?! And turn down your music, you'll go deaf!"

Disdainful anger camouflages her previous fear and she stands with her hands on her hips glaring down at the blonde irritably.

"My door? Oh! Yeah... About that... I kind of locked myself out after going for breakfast with Mary Margaret. I tried calling her for the keys but I think she's in the woods and-"

"- _You_ did that!?"

The brunette points over to the door incredulously and the Sheriff nods with an uneasy shrug.

"It's just the lock that's busted, I'll replace it later... Why are you so pissed?"

"I'm not, I'm just astounded by your stupidity!"

Regina sniffs, but she takes a seat primly beside the blonde and offers her an amiable smirk as the younger woman moves around to face her with a sigh.

"It's fine, Regina, and anyway, I'm the Sheriff. No one's going to break in here!"

"Yes, because you really instil _that_ much fear in the people, dear."

"They have no idea what I'm capable of!"

"Is that so?"

Scarlet lips twitch with amusement and the brunette flicks her hair back coyly.

"What did you want, anyway?"

"I was wondering about your little visit last night."

"... Oh. Well, it was fun..."

Emma replies tersely, not entirely comfortable that the older woman should think it her place to waltz into her apartment to more or less check up on her for time spent with other people. She raises an eyebrow curiously when the brunette proceeds to greet this statement with a frown.

"Fun?"

"Yeah... I mean what do you _want_ me to say? We drank wine, ate food and watched a movie. I like all of those things so-"

"-That's not exactly the visit to which I was referring, dear."

"Oh... Then... What?"

"Gold didn't come up here to talk to you?"

"No... Why would he?"

"When I left he... Never mind..."

"...Okay?"

"I'm glad you had fun though, with the others."

Regina offers a small smile and the Sheriff beams at her brightly, stretching out cattily before padding to the fridge.

"Juice? It's freshly squeezed."

"Please."

The brunette sits back and watches amiably as the younger woman fetches a large jug thick with chilly condensation from the fridge and pours out two small glasses of orange juice. As she turns to replace the jug, she pauses for a second, her attention lost on the calendar that hangs up on the fridge as a way for the two women living in the flat to have a vague idea whether to expect the other home. The Mayor raises an eyebrow when Emma remains seemingly transfixed and clears her throat. Coming out of her trance, the blonde shakes her long curls abruptly and pads over with the twin glasses of juice in her hands.

"Something wrong?"

Regina nods towards the calendar and frowns when the Sheriff lowers her gaze to appear suddenly engrossed in her jeans.

"Emma?"

"No... It's just... Can I ask what you're planning for next week?"

"Next week?"

"Henry's birthday."

"Henry's birthday isn't next... Oh."

The brunette sighs awkwardly and sips at her juice.

"We celebrate Henry's birthday on the 28th; it's when I was blessed with him."

"Oh."

"It seemed like the most logical date."

"Yeah, no, I get it.

"...Usually he and I will go out for a meal."

"Cool."

"It's tradition."

"Yeah."

Regina watches neutrally as the blonde looks away uncomfortably. Clearing her throat, she raises an eyebrow when Emma turns to look up at her hopefully.

"Do you think maybe-"

"-You can't come... It will look suspicious and... you just... I-"

"-You don't want me to."

"No."

The brunette purses her lips as she nods in agreement; hating this. Hating that despite her feelings for the younger woman, there is the subject of Henry that exists between them, and she just can't quite allow it to be resolved. Nevertheless, she doesn't think she can stand the look that currently graces the Sheriff's face for much longer.

"Miss Swan... Seeing as I am _more_ than aware that Henry pays you visits all the damn time when he's not supposed to... I suppose if he were to do so on the 9th... Well..."

"That would be okay with you?"

"...No... But I'll allow it."

Raising slowly, Emma offers the Mayor a weighted look before moving to slip onto her lap; straddling slim thighs lightly. Brushing her fingers gently through dark tresses, she places as delicate kiss on scarlet lips before leaning forwards and wrapping her arms round the older woman's neck.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Does... Does Henry even know that that's his birthday?"

"...No. He's never actually asked."

"Oh."

"I suppose... I suppose he'll know once you tell him."

"I don't have to..."

The blonde sits back, and the Mayor is slightly alarmed to see that her cheeks glisten wetly with tear tracks. Rubbing them away self consciously, Emma shrugs lightly and offers a small smile.

"I just want to spend time with him on that day... I don't need him to know why if you don't want."

"Miss Swan... Emma... You can tell him whatever you wish to tell him as to why he's there. Just don't spoil him with gifts. Don't... I don't know..."

"I don't even know what to get him..."

"Dear, I'm understanding, but that's taking it a little too far. I'm not helping you pick out a gift."

"I didn't mean... I wasn't-"

" _-But_ , I suppose it does me no harm in telling you Henry is rather partial to homemade chocolate cake. I fear I am not so adept at baking this to his liking... I would think the amount of sugar and junk you might inevitably put into your cooking will be much more to his taste..."

She grins despite herself as soft lips press against her own, and plays with silken curls gently in her hands. Pulling Emma flush, she wraps her arms around the younger woman's small waist and keeps her there, even when salted tears taint sweet lips bitterly.

_I can't believe I'm allowing this..._

"I... Thank you..."

"Stop saying that; I'll change my mind."

Regina chuckles as she feels the Sheriff tense immediately in her lap and she pushes the younger woman suddenly off of her to sprawl on the sofa. Repositioning herself to lie atop the wide-eyed blonde, she smirks at the way Emma sniffs irritably, trying to hide her emotions now that her face has come back into view.

"Thank you..."

Pink tongue dart out mischievously between white teeth and the Mayor punishes her swiftly with her own, plucking at the material of the Sheriff's cotton shirt; all thoughts of Gold's threat momentarily forgotten as the front door wavers ever so slightly back and forth on its broken latch.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Before you guys read this chapter, I will say that Rumplestiltkin/Gold is one of may absolute favourite characters on the show, but he does lend himself to act as a brilliant antagonist when writing which is how I've used him in this fic. So for anyone rooting for Gold who is annoyed by this, YES, I love him also, but I needed to focus on his bad side as I still think/ hope (!?) this is a realistic situation. 
> 
> Also. I am intrigued as to what you guys think on this! I have always been very confused by the last episode of series one pertaining to the curse. I understand that Emma's kiss woke Henry from his own, personal curse, but I have never understood the intricacies of how this then caused the main curse to break. I have tried to approach this as best as I could here, but I would be super interested to hear feedback on what you all think/ feel about that episode or the curse in general!

Dark eyes flash with curiosity as Gold catches a small shadow of movement as he makes his way up the stairs.

He had taken heed of the Mayor's suggestion to leave the Sheriff to her own devices the previous evening, not for the sake of adhering to the brunette's wishes, but rather because he needs to speak to the blonde alone. Hoping to catch her thusly this morning, he has made his way over to the crumbling apartment block under the dull haze of the winter sun.

Now, as he frowns at the Sheriff's front door which appears rather more worse for wear than usual, he is surprised to find that with each step he takes towards her apartment, the battered wood sways ever so slightly on its hinges. Creeping closer, his brow furrows deeper as he detects the dull murmur of voices from inside. He recognizes both the low, deceptively bored sounding drawl and the rich, soothing voice coming from behind the door, despite both women speaking surprisingly quietly and saying uncharacteristically little.

"Yet another 'business' meeting, dearie?"

He mutters beneath his breath, moving to stand against the door and pushing the painted wood slyly open to peer through the crack. What he sees has him taking in a low gasp as his eyebrows rise high in surprise. Stepping away from the door, he leans against the wall to gather himself, a slow smile finding his dry lips.

He had harbored his suspicions, true- fed greatly by the reactions displayed by both of the women in question- but to see it with his own eyes is something else entirely. To see the usually stoic blonde- who seems to _strive_ to give off the impression she'd happily punch in the face of any brave enough to try touching her- sat so sweetly in the Mayor's lap; a woman who, yes, oozes sex appeal, yet seems so barren of any real token of affection. To see well-manicured hands play so gently through soft curls as the younger woman had leant so tellingly forward.

A car outside the Mayor's house late at night could suggest a relationship of a sexual nature.

The brunette leaving the Sheriff's apartment with her lipstick delicately smeared as she smiles ever so smugly could easily suggest the same.

But what he has seen, peering silently through the battered door, is more than he would have hoped for. Evidently, a relationship of a sexual nature _does_ exist between the two- and this in itself is something he finds beautifully amusing- but this is more than that.

So _much_ more.

And this is what he repeats to himself with a knowing smile as he makes his way back to his shop.

* * *

"Perfect."

Gold smiles as he stirs sweet sugar into his tea, but whether this quiet exclamation is directed towards his cup or his newfound knowledge is unclear. Taking a seat behind his eclectically cluttered workbench, he sips at his drink thoughtfully while tapping his cane lightly with blunt-nailed fingers.

He has pondered on the deal made with the Sheriff often since that eventful day in the hospital, his mind churning with the possibilities of what 'favour' he might request from her. He is loathe to admit that there have been the odd occasions when he has found himself bored and excruciatingly lonely, and on such evenings a part of him- a very _particular_ part of him- has entertained the idea of simply requesting she come over and demanding a very physical return of her favour right then and there. Such is not his true nature however, and despite what others may think of him- in Storybrooke and back in that other land, that better land- the thought of following through with such a crude and vulgar demand leaves him inwardly disgusted.

He likes the Swan woman.

She interests him, and her somewhat gritty personality often earns her a smile from him; sometimes in jest, sometimes at her expense. Either way, he is ashamed of his infrequent late night lust for just, well, _fucking_ her, and, deal or no deal, he is under no illusion that she would comply willingly.

_That's what could make it fun. The power..._

No. He shakes his head. With the new information his spying has gleaned, the blonde is far too valuable to ruin in such a way.

After all, his main remorse following his altercation with Emma had been coming to the realization that while she possesses some of the tools he needs in his ultimate quest, she doesn't possess _all_ of them, and without the ability to give him what he requires to send her off on her mission, she is useless to him.

Or so he had thought.

The blonde is unable to use magic, doesn't believe in magic, won't entertain the _existence_ of magic, and while this is rather amusing in its own twisted way, he n _eeds_ magic in order to locate the thing- the one- whom he wishes her to seek out.

And thus, enter Regina.

When they had first come to this wretched town, his plea to her had been frequent and in earnest, and while he had quickly found that their previous arrangement stood strong- the brunette forced to heed his every command without her consent- the deal seemed only to pertain to the happenings within Storybrooke itself. With his son beyond the town line, any request involving Bae fell on deaf ears.

Until now.

Now, he has leverage. Now she has a weakness.

He had indulged the thought previously of using the boy as a means of threatening the Mayor. To hold Henry to ransom in demand that she break the curse and use her power to locate his son. Alas, the endeavor to threaten Henry had previously been pointless; the curse having been crafted-of his own design- to require a Saviour- _the_ Saviour- to break it.

To be Regina's undoing.

He has worked hard since the blonde's arrival to condition her in such a way that she may succeed in her task, but Emma has proven a victim of the unfavorable circumstance of her upbringing and more difficult to mould than he had first foreseen. Her inability to comprehend what is right in front of her nose is almost laughable in its ridiculousness.

He had thought that after what had happened to Graham, Henry would be able to convince her, yet _still_ she had clung desperately to what she had- understandably- perceived as sanity.

"So stubborn, dearie. So hard, so brittle like glass. Well glass can be shattered, Miss Swan. Oh yes it can."

And, there are two ways in which the curse can be broken. In which he will get what he desires. Polar opposites: life and death.

And hasn't he always just marveled at the beauty of it.

Either true love will break the curse, giving life to the young blonde who up until now has hardly been 'living' but merely surviving; an invisible burden on her shoulders she doesn't even know exists. Gold muses that this would indeed be the more appealing of the two options; the more intricate and beautiful in its design. However, he finds it hard not to put more faith in the other option, as, while bearing little of the grace and fantastical qualities of the first, it will work just as well.

The Saviour loves or the Saviour dies.

Both will break the curse.

But with the latter, there is a good chance he himself will fall victim to Regina's wrath if she manages to best him. It is not a possibility he believes likely, but it _is_ a possibility.

And that simply won't do.

No, he needs the blonde alive, he accepts this now. To assure him safety to do what must be done... And for a much simpler reason.

She knows about the outside world.

She knows about the world in which his son resides.

Killing her would be detrimental to his cause.

 _Using_ her, however...

He is afraid to touch the boy.

But his mother...

He likes the blonde well enough, but he has no issue in using her if it will garner the Mayor's attention. If he has her attention, perhaps the cards may finally become stacked in his favor.

He _needs_ her attention.


	56. Chapter 56

"So, have you told Henry, or not?"

The waitress enquires, laughing as Emma wrinkles her nose at the mess of dough that coats both the flour-dusted kitchen table and her hands.

"...I'm pretty sure we should have stuck to the recipe..."

"Oh, it'll be fine! Just put in some more flour or sugar."

"Flour _or_ sugar... Which one?!"

"I don't know, try a little of both?"

"... Shit, I've really fucked this up, haven't I?"

"No you haven't, it's fine! It's just a bit goopy is all. Here, give me a go with the whisk."

She butts the blonde out of the way with an amiable bump of her hip and goes about thickening up the admittedly disastrously sticky cake batter in the way she has seen Granny do many times before. The Sheriff watches her thoughtfully, plucking up a packet of chocolate chips and shaking some out into her hand.

"You're sure you want to put in chocolate chips _and_ M &Ms?"

"Yeah, I mean, he's a kid. Kids like chocolate, right?"

"Right. In that case, could you maybe not _eat_ all of the ingredients before they go in?"

"I can't promise anything..."

Ruby glances up at the blonde and offers her a theatrical sigh before stealing a couple of chocolate chips from her unsuspecting palm and nibbling at them with a grin.

"Double standards much, Ruby?"

"A good cook always checks her ingredients."

"So why is it not okay when _I_ do it?"

"A bad cook eats an entire bag of chocolate chips- which, by the way, are _cooking_ chocolate- and then complains that her cake is boring."

"Ah..."

"So have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Told Henry what tomorrow is?"

"Not yet... I think... I think he might have guessed... I'm not sure."

"Oh?"

"Well, when I called him on the walkie the other day I just asked if he wanted to come over tomorrow, but I guess I've never really 'booked out time in advance' before, and I'm pretty sure he knows the day he celebrates with Regina is the day he became _hers_ , because... Well... It's Regina. She's not going to have decided to celebrate the day some other woman pushed a kid out of her."

"Maybe don't refer to it as that to Henry, it sounds painful."

"Oh, because in reality it's a piece of cake?"

"I wouldn't know."

"It's not. Not a piece of cake at all. It's the _whole_ cake!... One big, bloody, screaming, painful cake."

"Lovely."

"Wrong again."

Ruby laughs, opening up a packet of M&Ms and shaking them out to stud the batter colorfully. Mixing them in, she pours the mixture out into a cake tin and bends down to put it in the oven. Smiling at the blonde who stands staring pensively into space, she pokes her gently with a red-nailed finger to get her attention.

"Bowl or spoon?"

"Huh?"

"Which do you want?"

"Uhhh..."

The brunette rolls her eyes as the Sheriff leans over the dirty implements to inspect which of the two promises the better haul and plucks up the spoon for herself as she tires of waiting.

"Rookie mistake."

"I can't help but feel I don't take my batter-licking as seriously as you do..."

"I'm hungry!"

"You are not! There is no _possible_ way you could be hungry. I brought you a sandwich like an hour before you finished work, and you've just eaten the majority of a bag of chocolate chips!"

"I don't remember asking you to keep tabs, and I'm just giving you the facts. I'm hungry. And this is good!"

She swipes her finger through the sticky batter that coats the bowl and grins at the waitress. Ruby smirks back sweetly, her lips closed around the spoon, and shakes her head.

"So are you going to just wait until he mentions it? Or like...?"

"Well, the cake and card will probably give it away."

"Where's the card?"

"Up in my room, and no, you can't see it."

"Aw, _come on_! What did you write? Why can't I see it?"

"Because... It's embarrassing... And it's for Henry... And... Look, I don't know. I'm shit at this whole business, and I went to the store to get one and they were all just _hideous,_ so I figured that as I was sat at work and nothing was really going on I'd try and draw something... Though now I think maybe I should just buy one anyway... A kid's not gonna care that it's soppy and contrived, right? Not if there's cake?"

"Probably not, but _your_ kid _is_ gonna care that you drew him a card! He'll love it!"

"Well, we'll see if he can figure out what it's supposed to _be_ first... I most definitely peaked with my artistic talent at the age of about five."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"One day I'll draw you a portrait and force you to hang it above your bed and you'll see just how wrong you are."

"I'd like that."

"We'll see."

"And I meant more as in... Are you going to tell Henry it's his birthday before presenting him with very obvious pointers, like, so that he can talk about it if he wants?"

"... You think I should?"

"I think it's a bit weird to just hand the boy a card and say 'oh, by the way, kid'... Even if you _do_ think he's figured it out."

"I guess."

"How come you don't want to? I thought you were super excited about all this?"

"I am, it's just... One day Henry's going to ask me why I gave him up- hell, ask my why I was in _jail_!- and he's not going to just accept the answer 'it was for the best' anymore... Talking about his birthday seems like a pretty good time for him to bring that shit up..."

"Yes, and one day _you're_ going to have to just accept that he needs to _know_. Don't _you_ want to ask your parents the same thing?"

"That's _so_ not the same thing, Ruby, I-"

"-I never said it was. Relax. You just need to accept that Henry has a right to know about _you_ , not just what he figures out and what little you tell him. You're his mother. Besides, I don't know how things work with your... Thing... with Regina now, but you _have_ to think she's filled his head with a fair few unflattering stories and theories about you? I mean before you guys started to... You know."

"I dunno... I guess that article about me having him in jail wasn't the _best_ thing ever to happen to our relationship... I'm not sure what she told him... I'm not so sure he'd take much _notice,_ to be honest."

"Well, I guess that's good."

"Is it? She's his _mother._ Like, his everyday, all the time mother. He should listen to her more..."

"...I guess..."

Ruby shrugs awkwardly, not entirely sure which side of the conversation to take. She wants to take Emma's side, whatever that is. The problem is that the blonde seems rather unsure of whether or not she wants to take her _own_ side.

"Look, why don't you just call him on the walkie and tell him. All you need to do is ask him if he knows what tomorrow is, explain it's a special occasion, and tell him the truth: that you wanted to spend the day with him on his birthday. If he has questions, you'll answer them. You're not as bad at talking to people as you think, you know."

"I know _several_ people that would beg to differ with you on that one."

"Nah, I think maybe other people just aren't very good at actually _listening_ to you."

The Sheriff chuckles, before looking down awkwardly when the brunette simply smiles at her; realizing Ruby's words were meant seriously. Shrugging, she sighs and places the empty bowl in the sink to soak.

"I lied to him about his dad, you know..."

"Why, what did you say?"

"That he died. That he was a good guy."

"And... He's not dead?"

"He _could_ be for all I fucking know. He wasn't a good guy."

"... I'm sorry. Do you want to-"

"-No."

"Okay. Well... I dunno... I guess if it comes up, it's a good chance to explain you didn't tell him the truth... If it _doesn't_ come up, I'd maybe not choose his birthday as the time to tell him... You have to at _some_ point, though."

"I know."

"Have you told Regina?"

"That I lied to Henry?"

"Well, yes, but have you told her why?"

"It hasn't come up."

"Well, if she's the way you say she is... If you don't think she'll use it against you, I mean... Maybe you should tell her."

"Why?"

"Because. It'll be like a trial run for if Henry asks you, and without prying, I get the feeling that your reasoning behind disliking the guy is possibly of an adult nature and _definitely_ more close to home than you like to get. I would tell you to talk to Mary Margaret- or me- but I can see from the look on your face just _mentioning_ it that you don't want to. So, tell Regina. Things always seem suddenly much less awful once you share them with someone, Emma."

"I... I guess... How the fuck did _you_ get to be so wise all of a sudden, anyway?"

"No idea, but could you please use that term to describe me next time you see Granny?! Hell, next time you see anyone! People think I'm such a joke."

"Maybe they're just not _listening_ to you well enough?"

Ruby swats at the Sheriff with an amiable scowl as the latter smirks gleefully back at her.

"You're hopeless!"

"True. In fact, only _one_ thing is currently keeping me going."

"What's that?"

"Ten minutes till the cake is ready."

"Hopeless."

Emma laughs as she pads over to the fridge and pulls out a beer. Offering it to the brunette, she points the younger woman in the direction of the bottle opener and grabs another for herself. She glances over at the table where a couple of plastic bags sit pulled open with their contents spread about in disarray. She had called on the brunette to discuss her current circumstances, as her housemate had texted to let her know she was stopping by to see David after finishing up at school. True to her nature, Ruby had then sweetly overcompensated to the extreme, bringing with her several different colors and lengths of streamers, a variety of balloons, and a set of cardboard sheets that when interlocked together create a castle-themed centerpiece.

"This is pretty neat, actually."

The Sheriff folds the pieces together, propping the- slightly wonky- finished product up on the kitchen island with a grin.

"Are you two playing make believe? How sweet!"

Emma and Ruby jump in surprised unison, turning around to spy Mary Margaret wrestling with her coat in the doorway.

"You scared the _shit_ out of me! We need to get that door fixed..."

"Stop with the swearing all the time. And the door wouldn't _need_ fixing if _someone_ hadn't decided to use the fire extinguisher to try and break it down..."

"Now who could _that_ have been?"

"They sound like an idiot."

Ruby ducks as a hand comes up to smack her over the head, giggling. Shaking her head in mock bemusement, the schoolteacher makes her way over to the table to inspect the various party decorations.

"You're going to do up the place?"

"I don't know... I haven't decided yet..."

"What Emma's _trying_ to say is ' _yes_ ', yes she is, and as you can see, she can barely _contain_ her excitement!"

"Clearly. What's wrong? How come you don't know if you want to do it?"

"I _do_ want to, I'm just bad at this kind of thing. I just don't know if an eleven year old boy wants bright yellow streamers... Maybe he'll think it's stupid?"

"Henry won't find anything you do stupid, Emma, and besides, just look at it as making up for owing eleven year's worth of tacky decorations for kid's parties."

"Right."

The blonde mutters quietly, suddenly engrossed in her beer as her jaw clenches visibly. Mary Margaret throws a panicked glance to Ruby who nibbles her lip awkwardly, before addressing her mistake hurriedly.

"Oh, Emma, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry!"

"It's fine."

"It's not! It's quite clearly not! Could you please just look at me? I _really_ didn't mean for it to sound that way..."

"Okay."

The raven headed woman sighs as her housemate slips past her with a moody shrug, turning to watch defeatedly as the blonde busies herself inspecting the broken lock as though she has any clue how to fix it. Turning back towards Ruby, she mouths silently

"I _really_ didn't mean it like that..."

Her brow furrowed anxiously. The waitress smiles kindly, mouthing back

"She knows that, really."

"You guys want to get pizza tonight?"

The two darker haired women turn towards the Sheriff as the blonde's tone is carefully expressionless. Accepting the question as a silent declaration of truce, Mary Margaret agrees gratefully, before enquiring whether or not the brunette is needed back at the Diner.

"I'll stay for a slice if you guys are sharing."

"Emma doesn't share."

"Nope."

"I'll give you a slice, though"

"I bet that's what you tell all the boys."

The schoolteacher's cheeks pinken as she regards the other two in bemusement as they crack up merrily. Shaking her head, she makes her way over to the fridge and helps herself to a glass of wine.

"Oh, it's going to be a long night."

Her air of disdain is short lived, however; inwardly pleasantly surprised at how things have blossomed amongst the three of them. She has always had a lot of time for the young waitress- feeling oddly drawn to her in spite of their vastly different personalities- and the way Ruby brings out her housemate's lighter side is a definite plus.

Regardless of whether or not it results in her being teased long into the early hours of the morning.

"Emma, go call in the order, Ruby and I will clear the table and rescue your cake."

"The cake!"

"It's fine! Just call up before it gets late and busy."

Nodding her agreement, the blonde walks over to her bag which lies forlorn on the sofa and rummages around for her phone; the pizza place's number saved into her contacts list. Noticing the small, green text message notification symbol, she opens it up curiously, a small smile touching the corners of her mouth.

_I haven't heard any sirens, so I trust your kitchen is still in tact. Cheating with a shop bought cake, dear?_

Rolling her eyes, she types back quickly, trying to keep herself from grinning.

_How dare you?! No. Cake is fine. Batter was good. Very messy, but it will taste good. I hope. E._

Pressing 'send' she scrolls quickly through her contacts and places her order, green eyes flashing as a telling beep pierces harshly in her ear as she speaks. Hanging up, she opens up the new message and lets out an incredulous laugh, blushing furiously.

_Messy and tasty? Are you trying to seduce me, Sheriff? I'll leave you to clean yourself up as I am sadly otherwise engaged. Sleep Well. X_

Pocketing her phone, Emma grins sheepishly, before stalking over to the dining table and wedging herself between her two companions, declaring happily

"Fuck it, let's put up the streamers."


	57. Chapter 57

"Good morning, Miss Blanchard, you're looking well."

"Am I?"

The schoolteacher frowns warily as she slows her pace so as not to rudely snub Gold, however much she might like to.

"Indeed."

"Well... Thank you... Did you want something?"

"Oh, no, just a friendly good morning, dearie. I am after young Emma if you'd know her whereabouts? I have something for her."

"Oh? Well, she's working from home today... Do you want me to give whatever it is to her?"

"Ah yes, working from home, I remember now. Oh well, no need to trouble yourself, it can wait."

"What is it?"

"My, my, aren't we curious? The Sheriff merely enquired whether I would happen to know of a locksmith that wouldn't charge an extortionate amount when he found out two young women without a clue on the trade were his clients."

"She did?"

"Indeed. You _are_ still experiencing problems with your lock I presume, Miss Blanchard?"

"Yes, sorry, a locksmith would be very helpful, I just didn't realize Emma had actually _done_ anything about it. Why don't you just give me the number? I'll call them when the children go out to play."

"Of course."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a scrap of paper; inwardly thanking his impeccable capacity for forward planning. He has indeed scribbled down the name and number of a local locksmith, but whether the young man is any good or not he has no clue. He had merely plucked the name out of city records that morning as an afterthought before waiting patiently at the crossroads between the school and Mary Margaret's.

"Well, I better be going, but thank you for looking into this for us."

She pockets the scrap of paper, giving a brief nod, before hurrying on her way, feeling inexplicably relieved once she turns the corner and knows Gold's dark eyes are no longer resting upon her.

"You're welcome, dearie."

He mutters quietly, before turning back the way he came and making his was towards his shop. Once he reaches the dusky old building however, he carries on; continuing up the path that leads to the schoolteacher's apartment building.

* * *

"Oh, fuck off..."

The blonde grumbles as down below she hears the door whine irritatingly on its hinges. She scolds herself for not getting the damn thing sorted, but supposes she may have time tomorrow before work. Today is about Henry, and she refuses to spend time bothering with such unimportant things.

Pulling her hair back into twin clips at the sides, she glances at herself in the mirror awkwardly. She isn't entirely sure what the hell she's gone for with her attire today, but she supposes the end result isn't as awful as it could have been. She had wanted to dress nice- the notion a little too similar to her dreaded first days at high school for her liking- but is out of practice.

"Oh, please, when were you ever _in_ practice."

Pulling at the soft white cotton of the sundress she had offered to lend the Mayor a lifetime ago, she supposes she looks rather childlike herself as she's coupled it with light grey woolen tights due to the winter weather, and a large, charcoal grey cardigan, but as today is just herself and Henry, she decides it doesn't matter.

She usually dislikes wearing dresses for many reasons, one of which is that they make her look shorter than she actually is. Her height is something about which she has always been secretly proud, as it allows her the benefit of rarely having to look submissively up at people.

_So, Regina is being referred to as 'people' now?_

She grins sheepishly, pulling her hair out the way so as to fix the clasp of her necklace in place.

_No. Regina is not just 'people'..._

Turing to her small bedside cabinet and searching through the crap that resides in its narrow drawer, she eventually finds what she's looking for and plucks it from the chaos. Unscrewing the small tube of mascara, she leans forwards towards the mirror and applies it carefully to her lashes, frowning as down below the door gives yet another whine, this one louder than the rest.

Cocking her head to the side, she waits, listening intently before shrugging off the notion that the sound must have come from the door actually being opened. When she had checked for mail this morning, she had found the window that lines the staircase wide open- an annoying habit of one of their neighbours with seemingly little idea that it is, in fact, still winter- and had grumbled irritably when she had been unable to shimmy it shut. The resulting draft has been having a maddening effect on the door all morning, and she presumes this is what now causes the hinges to screech audibly.

Tossing her mascara back into the drawer, she pulls out the small, handmade envelope that rests beneath her glasses on the nightstand and pockets it. Switching off her bedroom light, she makes her way swiftly down the stairs; securing one of the bobby pins that hold the hair away from her face as she goes.

Frowning at the front door which now stands wide open, she pads over to close it lightly on woolen stockinged feet; never thinking to glance behind her to check the small kitchenette where a dark shadow flashes from behind the centre island slyly.

* * *

Regina frowns as she glances up from her desk and watches Henry trudge up the ample driveway and disappear beneath the cover of the porch. Her brow furrows deeper when she hears first the dull slam of the front door, followed a few moments later by a louder slam from upstairs. Tapping her nails against the tabletop pensively, she pushes herself from her seat and makes her way up to his bedroom.

"Henry?"

"What?"

"Pardon, not 'what'...What is it? I thought you were going over to Emma's today?"

"So did I!"

The boy grumbles angrily, but the bright moisture glistening in his eyes is all too telling. Moving to perch gently on her son's bed, the Mayor raises an eyebrow as she requests he elaborate.

"What happened?"

"She's not home. I waited for like an hour, and I called her but she didn't pick up. I guess she didn't want to... To spend time with me today after all."

Regina sighs as she pulls the young brunet gently into her arms; surprised that he allows her to do so and subsequently furious at the blonde for ruining a chance for which she should be damned grateful.

"Maybe something came up, Henry... She _is_ the Sheriff... Someone might have called in an emergency..."

"No they didn't. She just got scared of seeing me because it's my birthday, and, and-"

"-Oh, Henry, I'm sure that's not true... She told you it was your birthday?"

"N-no, but it is, I _know_ it is... And I... I..."

The Mayor frowns angrily as the boy moves to bury his face into her chest, stroking his soft locks soothingly. Her heart beats rapidly and her stomach churns in a sickening way. She is furious, both at the Sheriff, and at herself for thinking Emma could take on something like this without screwing it up. She should have never allowed the younger woman the chance in the first place.

Beneath her anger though, and beneath the hateful feeling of 'I told you so' she suffers towards what she _now_ realizes should have been a painfully predictable case of cold feet, she feels another emotion. A bleaker emotion.

Fear.

She knows Emma well enough to know that although the blonde wouldn't _purposefully_ let the boy down, the chaotic mess of crap she carries around in her head is a logical pointer that she simply woke up this morning and couldn't handle the day.

She doesn't think that's _it_ though.

The Sheriff had been so excited.

And _admitted_ she was nervous; something which the brunette knows she'd had a hard time doing.

She had asked for this.

Actually _cried_ over it.

And something about the younger woman being missing seems very wrong indeed.


	58. Chapter 58

_Gold hisses through his teeth as a sharp elbow jabs viciously into his side, growling furiously into the blonde's hair as she stamps down on his foot. She wears only her ridiculously innocent woolen tights however, and, despite her irritable height advantage and surprising strength, she is slight, and her struggling is quickly dampened as the cloying concoction that wets the handkerchief he holds over her mouth and nose takes effect._

_Catching her easily at the waist as she slumps backwards into his arms, the old pawnbroker lowers her carefully to the floor before standing up straight and massaging his ribs; sure that the Sheriff's brief surge of retaliation will leave a colorful bruise._

_"Bad girl, Emma."_

_He inspects her curiously as she lies unconscious on the hard wood floor, smirking at her uncharacteristic attire in a not wholly unfriendly manner; enjoying the way her oversized cardigan and childish tights make her look much younger- much more vulnerable- than he is used to seeing her. This, coupled with the soft white dress and the girlish pull of her hair, makes this all seem so much easier somehow. She is his little girl to toy with, to conduct- he has always thought of her this way, long before meeting the grown up, contrary young woman she has become- and her current attire is simply a pleasing visual depiction to her role._

_"Charming, lovey."_

_He grins gleefully at the irony of his words before snooping briefly about her kitchen in mere curiosity. Opening the fridge, he raises an eyebrow at the large chocolate cake that takes pride of place amongst various other groceries. The words 'Happy Birthday, Henry' have been painstakingly iced in blue on top, and he marvels at the blonde's handwriting. The way others write has always been somewhat of a private fascination; having come to the conclusion that the way his clients signed their names back in that other land was greatly telling to their character. The Sheriff's writing is spiky and complicated, not easily legible, but with a subtle hint of delicacy to the way she finishes off her 'y's and an unusual curve to the tail of her 'd' which is curiously hyper-feminine._

_"Happy birthday indeed."_

_He murmurs quietly as he takes the cake and deposits it reluctantly into the trash. To do so is a necessity, and as he goes about pulling down various streamers and balloons, he mutters to himself that doing this is the same also. He doesn't think what he feels as he pops the balloons in his hands is strong enough to be called_ remorse _, but he is aware that whatever the feeling may be, it is a negative one. If it were possible to do this in another way and allow the boy his one day with the blonde, he would do so, but alas, it must happen like this._

_For it is today that will most likely garner the brunette's attention should she imagine the Sheriff to be missing._

_He needs the boy's reaction to be one of anger or pain to allow him the time to sort out the finalities of his plan. Should Henry arrive at the apartment and think something to be worrisome about the blonde's absence despite her clear effort to decorate and celebrate, he is unsure he would have time to get her located where he needs her; Henry likely to call upon the waitress, the schoolteacher, or his mother in fear that something has happened to the Sheriff. He needs the boy to believe Emma has simply stood him up, hopefully causing him to hang about in case she shows up, before heading home or to the Diner on foot and refraining from prematurely alerting any of the troublesome women who may get in the way._

_He imagines the Mayor's initial reaction when finding her son in what will presumably be a rather fragile state will be anger at the Sheriff, but he is relying on her coming to the conclusion at some point over the next few days that something is amiss. He hopes it will be sooner rather than later, not just because of his yearning ache to get things started, but also because he doesn't much like the idea of keeping Emma subdued for a long period of time._

_"What will be, will be."_

_He confides companionably to the young woman at his feet, before bending down to pull her up. He tugs at her hands so that she rises into a seated position; her head hung back to expose her throat vulnerably as her long hair ghosts over the uneven floorboards. Struggling to maneuver her into a more compliant position, Gold eventually manages to hoist her over his shoulder with a grunt of exertion, his weak leg trembling warningly._

_"Thank goodness you're_ _a fairly small lass, eh, dearie?"_

_Shifting the blonde's dead weight until he is sure he has her held securely, he moves towards the door; his hand up beneath her dress resting on soft wool as he cups her ass to keep her in place._

_"Sorry, Sheriff."_

_Creeping slowly out into the hallway, he listens intently for any signs of life before determining it safe to journey downstairs. He moves carefully, aware that it would be easier to simply drag the young woman along by the hands, but not wanting to batter her about unnecessarily._

_After all, this is strictly business._

_Reaching the front door to the apartment building, he hesitates, peering through the dirty glass pane to check the street, before exiting swiftly to his car which waits directly in front of the door despite multiple signs banning the act. Pulling open the passenger side door, he deposits the Sheriff limply into the seat- taking the time to buckle her in as the street remains deserted- before limping around to the driver's side. Starting the engine, he speeds off; his right hand gently keeping the blonde's head from lolling due to various bumps and potholes as he goes._

* * *

"Miss Swan?!"

Regina knocks on battered wood loudly, despite the fact that the door still wavers flimsily in its frame. Garnering no response, she promptly slams the door open and storms into the apartment angrily. Dark eyes flashing about her surroundings, she knows immediately that the blonde isn't home, but she marches swiftly over to the wrought iron staircase nevertheless.

Entering Emma's bedroom, she sighs irritably as it sits- predictably- empty. She frowns as she spies several discarded items of clothing strewn atop the blonde's narrow bed, before leaning over the Sheriff's messy nightstand to inspect a number of discarded balls of paper. Plucking one up curiously, she unfurls it to realize that it is cut to form an envelope, but a jagged rip to one side suggests why it has ended up forlorn on the bedside table. There are five such crumpled items in total, each possessing a simple, minor flaw, and each branded with her son's name. Raising an eyebrow pensively, the brunette makes her way back downstairs.

She snoops about the apartment curiously, unable to shake the feeling that something feels decidedly _off_ about the Sheriff's absence. Opening several of the cupboards, before randomly peering inside the fridge, her brow creases at a curiously empty space within, around which groceries and cans have been purposefully shoved to the side.

"One or two beers last night, dear?"

It is a plausible explanation, but somehow doesn't feel _right_. Turning for the door, she frowns as she spots a flash of green from behind the sofa. Moving over, she bends down to pick up a rather sorry looking balloon; half deflated and forgotten as its rubber surface appears punctured on one side.

"... What on earth?"

She stares at the gaudy green decoration for what feels like a decidedly long time. Squeezing it irritably so as to deflate it fully- a high pitched whistle piercing her ears- she stalks over to deposit useless rubber in the trash.

"What..."

She freezes as she gazes down at the schizophrenic haze of color that busies the inside of the younger woman's trash can; the discarded decorations soiled messily with what is instantly recognizable as chocolate frosting. Picking delicately at a few ruined streamers, the Mayor takes in a harsh gasp as she uncovers pale blue icing; painstakingly piped and meaning so much more than just the destroyed words glaring back up at her.

"Why? Why would you do that...?"

But she finds she's having a hard time believing Emma to be the one behind this. She knows the Sheriff is a profoundly awkward character- and not at all a fan of emotional occasions- but if the blonde had harbored doubt as to celebrating the boy's birthday, the Mayor is sure she would have backed out long before toiling over a cake and decorating the apartment.

Eyes widening fearfully, she shakes her head as her eyes dart around the empty apartment fretfully.

"What the hell _happened_ , Emma!?"


	59. Chapter 59

"What do you want?"

Regina glares at the old woman behind the counter angrily, finding her tone to be entirely loathsome despite the fact she has other, more important things on her mind.

"Ruby. Where is she?"

Granny opens her mouth- presumably to tell the Mayor the young brunette is otherwise engaged- but as she does so, the waitress pops into view at the window separating the kitchen from the restaurant and spots her visitor.

"Regina... Madame Mayor... What can I do for you?"

When the older woman simply purses her lips and shakes her head, Ruby takes note of the high color to her cheeks and motions that she come through to the back curiously. Following the Mayor with a growing sense of trepidation, the young waitress faces her anxiously as they stand hidden behind a shelf of produce and dried goods.

"What... Uh...?"

"Have you seen Emma?"

And just like that it's out there. No 'Miss Swan' bullshit, no beating about the bush. She had thought originally upon going to the schoolteacher, but had found the idea simply too hateful. Besides, she may despise the young brunette who now studies her open-mouthed and riddled with idiocy, but there is no changing the fact that Ruby knows what she knows, and right now she has little time for small talk.

"Um, yeah, last night... Why?"

The waitress's bright eyes go swiftly from caged interest to wary concern, and for that the Mayor is grateful; it saves her having to admit her own fears.

"She's not at home."

"Oh. I... I don't know... I thought-"

"-Henry just came home and said she wasn't there... He was crying. Today is his birthday."

"I know... Emma... Emma wasn't there?"

"No."

"That's weird..."

"Do you think she would have gotten cold feet?"

Ruby blinks in surprise. Regina's question seems genuine, and her intelligent eyes are filled with anxiety. Choosing her words carefully, the waitress continues warily.

"No... I was round her place last night... We made a cake and she decorated the place. She was excited. She wouldn't have bailed... Maybe she was called in on an emergency?"

"Her phone was lying on the kitchen table."

"... And she wasn't there?"

"No."

"...That's... That's really weird..."

"She hasn't said anything to you?"

"About taking off? No! Nothing!... Something about this... It doesn't feel right..."

Heavily lined eyes glisten fretfully and the Mayor nods in reluctant agreement.

"No. That's what I thought too."

"But, like, who would want to hurt Emma? I mean... The only person I would have thought would harm her is... Well... Umm..."

"Me?"

"... Yes."

"I wouldn't lay a finger on her... As I believe- according to Miss Swan- you know."

"... I know."

"There is one other..."

"Mr Gold."

"Precisely."

"But _why_? I mean... I know you guys had it out in here... Same with Emma... But what does he _want_ with her?"

"I... I don't know."

"Do you think he-"

"-Miss Lucas I haven't a clue what that hateful imp wants with the Sheriff, but if he so much as _looks_ at her in a way she doesn't want him to... Rest assured... I will make him regret it."

Ruby regards the darker woman levelly as the Mayor hisses at her intently; watching as the darker woman's eyes flash with anger. Pulling herself up to her full height, she nods bravely.

"And I would be next in line..."

Regina pauses, studying the younger woman critically, coming to the slow realization that for now she has much in common with the waitress; the young brunette evidently distraught at the disappearance of her friend and prepared to go quite some way towards getting her back.

"You really think he'd... I dunno.. _Kidnap_ her?!"

"I don't know _what_ to think. All I know is that my son is at home under the impression that his... His mother... Didn't want to spend time with him today. Now, for a long time, I would have wished that to be true, as I'm sure I don't need to tell you. Now, though... I refuse to believe that to be the case, and the only person I know that would have the _audacity_ to stand between a young boy and his birthday wishes is Gold... I don't know what he wants, dear, but I guarantee you... I plan to find out."

* * *

The blonde wakes up groggily, her head pounding and her stomach churning nauseatingly. She blinks lethargically in an attempt to adjust to the dim light of the room; rolling her head to the side weakly. She becomes slowly aware of the fact that her mouth has been gagged with some form of bitter tasting material which rubs coarsely against her lips and tongue, and struggles against the urge to heave up the contents of her stomach.

For a brief, disorientated moment she wonders if the Mayor is behind her current predicament; incoherently pondering on whether this is the result of a game gone too far. Struggling to sit up, she notes with a terrible sense of distress that her wrists have been cuffed tightly to what she concludes are bedposts, and she knows instantly Regina isn't behind this.

Regina wouldn't let her be cuffed in such a way.

Not anymore.

Coming out of her drugged stupor as she breathes fretfully through her nose, she struggles to lift her head to survey her surroundings; her heart beating frantically in her chest. Shaking her head in denial, she attempts to yell out through her gag, but the resulting sound is so pitifully muffled it only serves to terrify her more. Vaguely aware that she has started to cry, she trembles fitfully on the hard mattress, kicking her feet uselessly as she chokes weakly on her restrained sobs.

_No. No. No. No. Please no. Please! No. No. This can't be happening. No. No! NO!_

Thrashing wretchedly on the bed, she stills only when her brow glistens with exhaustion and her breathing comes out rough and ragged. Struggling helplessly to control her racing mind, she begins to yank desperately at her restraints.

She begins to yank _hard_.


	60. Chapter 60

When the door to his shop slams open- glass rattling in angry protest in its frame- and the brunette storms across the threshold, the old pawnbroker is ready for her. Glancing up from a paper he isn't actually reading, he raises an eyebrow at her in mock curiosity and clears his throat.

 _My, my, things have clicked much faster than I had thought they would... What a pity, dearie, for you really_ must _be fond of our absent Sheriff._

"Mayor Mills, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What did you do to her?"

"Why, whatever are you talking about, dearie?"

Dark eyes twinkle as Gold watches the Mayor intently as she glares at him murderously. Refusing to take a step back, even when she rushes forth without warning towards him and presses her face so close to his he can feel her breath on his lips, he simply smiles at her knowingly.

"Emma. What have you done to her?"

"Why the curiosity? I was under the impression that whatever happens to our young Sheriff was none of your concern?... Or so you told me."

"It is my son's birthday, and he was supposed to be spending the day with Miss Swan. I now have a distraught child who believes he has been tossed aside by the woman, yet _again_ , and an integral member of this town's governing force nowhere to be found. So yes, the Sheriff's apparent disappearance is very _much_ something of my concern."

"You let that woman have _your_ son on his _birthday_?!... Forgive me, Regina, but that certainly doesn't _sound_ like you have no interest in the young lady's life..."

"That is not something for you to judge! It is a situation that pertains to Miss Swan and I alone! Now tell me, or I'll find a way to _make_ you tell me... Where is she?"

"And what makes you think _I_ know anything about this?"

"I don't _think_ you do, Gold. I _know_ you do."

"Curious."

"Tell me!"

Gold cocks his head to one side and regards the brunette with unmasked interest, trying to recall the last time he has seen her quite so irate. Angry, sure, he's seen her angry dozens of times, but this is _more_ than that. Her hands tremble tellingly at her sides, and her dark eyes are a little too wide, a little too nervous. Running his finger thoughtfully over his bottom lip, he smiles at her kindly.

"You really _do_ care for her, don't you..."

The words are less directed towards the Mayor than they are the simple thoughts of the pawnbroker expressed out loud, and Regina growls at him angrily, slamming her palms down with brutal force on the counter that stands thankfully between them.

"Where is she, Gold?!"

"She's safe, if _that_ puts you at ease at all."

" _Safe_?! Safe _where_?! What the hell did you _do!_?"

"Calm yourself. Take some deep breaths, dearie, there really isn't any need for all this fuss..."

"Where. Is. _Emma?_ "

Shrugging, the pawnbroker smirks, his gold tooth flashing hatefully in the dim light that streams hazily through the shop window.

"Oh, it's not going to be that easy, my dear... You see, I wouldn't have taken her if I didn't have any reason to do so."

"What do you mean? What could you possibly want from her!?"

"... An interesting question. Let me ask _you_ the same thing. What do _you_ get from your peculiar little arrangement with the Sheriff?... I certainly wouldn't presume you have much time for what she has to _say_... But perhaps there are _other_ things young Emma is more skilled at doing with her mouth? Hmm? You know... I may just ask her-"

"-You fucking _touch_ her and I'll-"

"-Oh my! _Language_ , Madame Mayor! You'll what, dearie? You'll _what_? What do you have to threaten me with if I touch the pretty little Sheriff?"

"I'll..."

Mouth opening and closing but finding no answer, the Mayor hisses venomously and glares down at her hands.

"What do you want?"

"Well, that depends... What are you willing to give me?"

"... Whatever it takes."

"Interesting."

" _Well_?!"

Bright eyes flicker back up to regard Gold fretfully; squeezing tightly shut when the old man simply throws his head back and laughs.

" _Eager_ aren't we?... _Your Majesty_."

"You... How..."

"Oh, let's not bother with hows, whys and ifs, dearie, after all, there's a fair maiden up to be won, and I doubt she'd thank you for taking the time to discuss such unimportant little nuisances. I know who _you_ are, and _you_ know who _I_ am... And we _both_ know who the mouthy little Sheriff is, do we not?"

"... Make your point."

"I need your help."

"...Why?"

"I am looking for something. Something which was lost to me long ago. Now, in _this_ world, I have a chance of finding it... But I need you to show me where to look."

"How would _I_ know something like that?!"

"Oh, you _wouldn't_ , dearie... No... But with _magic_..."

"There _is_ no magic in this world, Gold!"

"No... But there is a way of changing that..."

"... The curse... It can't be broken. It requires the Saviour to do so, _you_ made it that way!... And Emma neither believes in magic... Nor love. It is impossible."

Gold raises an eyebrow at the brunette's words; marvelling at her adamant refusal to accept the power the blonde posesses, much the same as Emma refuses to do so herself. The Mayor's doubt irritates him. He needs her to be desperate to get the younger woman back, and, while she _claims_ to be, he now realizes that her fear has not been peaked to the extent he requires. He had hoped the brunette would have a solution; a way to make the blonde believe. Once Emma _believes_ , she can be sent to collect what is his... And magic can be restored. Power can be restored. He can have his son back.

He knows he can't break the curse himself.

Can't kill the blonde and retrieve what was lost.

Can't risk Regina taking an eye for an eye should he slay the Saviour.

 _Emma_ must break the curse.

And if she is to do so alive, she must find it within herself to love.

 _Really_ love.

He had thought it would be the boy who would break her eventually, but he doesn't have time to wait around for the Sheriff to battle with her psyche and bully down the barriers she has built around her heart.

He needs her scared.

He needs her to realize she _matters_ to someone.

To accept the very _idea_ of love when it is offered to her.

To do this, he needs Regina to know for _certain_ that she loves the blonde. That it goes deeper than caring. Deeper than lust. He is almost certain that what the brunette feels _is_ love, but 'almost' isn't good enough. He needs her to know for sure.

And doesn't the old saying go: 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'?

_Your doubt in the Saviour's ability to comprehend love saddens me, dear, as it appears things are going to take just that little bit longer. Still, better safe than sorry. Better you fret that little bit longer. Worry that little bit harder. Care that little bit deeper._

_I assure you, if your feelings are true,_ everyone _wins in the end._

 _You just can't_ know _that yet._

"Well... If it is _impossible_... Then I'm afraid I must call an end to this little conversation. It appears you have nothing I want after all."

"What...?"

"I don't believe I could have made myself any more clear, Madame Mayor. Now, if you please, I'd like to return to my work."

" _Gold_!"

"Leave. _Please_."

"I will have your hide for this!"

The pawnbroker watches neutrally as the brunette barks menacingly at him, doing little to hide his amusement at the way she leaves his shop in an awkward, almost jerky fashion; her mind screaming that this isn't over, but that long ago deal forcing her to adhere to his request. Shaking his head as the door slams loudly, he sighs as he supposes he's going to have to play this rather sordid game a little while longer after all.

Finishing his tea and gathering his coat, he slips out from behind the counter to go check on the Sheriff.

* * *

"Are you awake, dearie, you- _What the hell have you done_?!"

Dark eyes flash in alarm as the pawnbroker surveys the scene before him, before limping swiftly from the room as fast as his weak leg will allow him.


	61. Chapter 61

Ducking swiftly into the bathroom, Gold glances around restlessly for a towel of some sort but comes up empty. Acting on impulse, he quickly sheds his suit jacket and holds the sleeve beneath the frigid water from faucet, before limping back to the small room in which he had locked the blonde.

Hurrying over to the bed, he crouches painfully down at the side where she has fallen and struggles anxiously to hoist her back onto the mattress; the young woman whimpering deliriously.

"Oh, god, what did you _do_?!"

He mutters fearfully as he pulls her eyelid back with his thumb to inspect a hazy, unfocused green orb. Shaking his head fretfully, he drapes the sodden sleeve of his jacket over her forehead as he positions himself on the threadbare throw.

"Stupid, _stupid_ girl!"

The Sheriff's arms are streaked with blood; the left hanging limply from the silver cuff by which he'd fastened her, her wrist deeply lacerated and clotted a painful red where the cruel metal bites into her flesh.

Her right rests uselessly at her side; the flesh torn and shredded and her thumb bent at an odd angle.

"Oh, Emma..."

Gold grumbles fearfully as he inspects her ruined limb critically and realizes the blonde has broken her own wrist in her struggle to free herself.

"Damn it."

Bloodshed is something for which he is ill-prepared.

He had thought the Sheriff would simply bitch and gripe while laying mercifully prone on the hard bed to which he'd fastened her; perhaps going so far as throwing a petulant hunger strike or shutting herself off altogether. A small part of him is almost proud of the young blonde that she should strive quite so valiantly for her release, but this curious thought is dampened as he is now met with the consequence of her actions.

Removing the wet sleeve from her brow, he uses it to carefully clean the blood from her wrists; cringing at the severity of the cuts she has made to pale flesh. Shaking his head, he reaches over to his side where he had set out some provisions this morning and pops open a can of coke. Feeding a straw into the sugary liquid, he wrestles an arm gently beneath her shoulders and lifts the blonde so that her head lolls into his neck. Shaking her gently, he strives to get her to sip at the coke in an attempt to bring her back to the here and now.

"Come on, dearie, come on, Emma..."

The Sheriff splutters fitfully as she chokes on the fizzy drink and Gold immediately withdraws the straw from parched lips and pulls her up into his arms, speaking her name sternly into her ear.

"No-ooo..."

"It's ok, shh, stop that now, it's ok."

"...Hurts..."

Emma looks up at him in confusion and he slowly realises that she currently has no clue what's happening or who he is. He wonders if she even knows who _she_ is, but decides it doesn't much matter. Nodding sympathetically, her lifts her arm up above her head and wraps his jacket firmly around her wrist to staunch the bleeding. He is aware that this precaution is lame at best, however; hatefully conscious of the way her thumb hangs limply on a ribbon of torn tissue, but unsure what to _do_ about such a thing in a land without magic.

Frowning, he pets her in a way he hopes to be soothing; the blonde finding herself in this situation most definitely not part of his plan. Dark eyes darting about the blood-streaked bedding, he groans inwardly as he watches her begin to break out of her pained stupor into a fearful panic attack.

"What's going on?! No! What?!-"

"-Miss Swan..."

"No! No, n-no no! Please! No! Don't! No cuffs! Please!"

"Sheriff! Calm down! You're okay! There's nothing-"

"-Get me out! Get me out! _Get me ou_ t! No! NO!"

"Emma!"

Gold yells at her, slapping her smartly across the face as the Sheriff begins to thrash once more in earnest; the cuff that still holds her left wrist to the bed sawing cruelly into broken skin.

"Stop it! Stop! _Emma!_ "

The pawnbroker's eyes widen as he struggles to hold the blonde still; the young women staring up at him fearfully before breaking down into a fit of childlike weeping. Regarding her incredulously, Gold reaches swiftly into his shirt pocket and retrieves the key to her restraints. Sliding it into the bloodstained lock of the cuff that still holds her left wrist to the bed, he eases the crude silver bracelet away from her pale flesh carefully, frowning as fresh blood runs down her arm from exposed lacerations.

"Jesus..."

He is shocked by the Sheriff's behaviour; unsure how and why things have so quickly reached the level that they have. The damage she has done to herself appals him, and he shakes his head in disbelief as he carefully wraps the other sleeve of his jacket to form a tourniquet just above her wrist.

"Emma?"

Creased brow hovering inches from the blonde's, sour breath hot on her cheeks. She looks up at him blearily, face white and lips dry.

"Don't hurt me..."

"I... I wasn't _going_ to."

He mutters distractedly, pressing sodden fabric firmly to her bleeding wrists. He needs another plan, and fast; a way to keep the blonde subdued in which she won't pose as a danger to herself.

"Jefferson."

He groans irritably, not at all thrilled at the idea of involving the deluded young man, but realizing the Hatter to be his best option.

He observes her critically as sooty lashes flutter closed, moving his fingers hesitantly to her throat and sighing with a meagre sense of relief as her pulse beats lightly but rhythmically beneath his calloused skin.

Reaching once more into his pocket, he retrieves his phone, dialing a number he had planned on never using again, and waiting with a furrowed brow until the melodic whine of the mad man's voice greets him through the static.

"Yes?"

"Jefferson. I need you to do something for me..."


	62. Chapter 62

The old woman looks up from the order she scribbles down with practiced finesse and frowns. She studies the dark brunette shrewdly as the arrogant young woman marches self-importantly towards the door to the Diner. Grabbing her granddaughter by the arm, she speaks to her bluntly.

"What does the Mayor want, girl?"

Bright eyes regard her curiously before Ruby glances over to the door and sighs.

"I don't know, I'll go speak to her."

"You'll do no such thing; you're working, it isn't her right to demand your attention."

"It's okay, Granny, she... I think I know why she's here. I won't be long."

The gray haired woman opens her mouth to argue, but the waitress slips deftly past her and hurries up to the brunette; her heels tapping out a sharp rhythm on the bright linoleum floor.

"Regina... What-"

She trails off nervously as she takes in the pallor to the older woman's complexion and the tremble of her hands. Surprising herself, she swiftly takes charge, pulling the Mayor authoritatively along by the arm and guiding her through the door so that they stand outside. She catches several curious glances as she goes, and hopes Regina hasn't clued on to the fact that she has just been publicly ordered about by a mere waitress. Beckoning the brunette to follow her around to the side of the building where they find themselves sheltered in privacy, she turns to the older woman anxiously.

"Did you speak to Gold?"

"...Yes."

"And? Where's Emma?"

" _Does it look like I know?!_ "

Ruby takes a step back as bright white teeth snap at her angrily, but she bares the Mayor little grievance for her reaction. Running a hand nervously through her long hair she looks down at the cigarette-butt studded floor and sighs.

"Did he tell you _anything_?"

"He has her."

"What do you mean he 'has' her?"

"I... I don't know."

"Well, is she _okay_?"

Regina gathers herself sternly and sighs, her face drawn, making her appear much older than her years.

"He... He told me I don't have anything he wants..."

"That he _wants_?! What the hell would he _want_?! Why!? Why is he doing this to her?!"

The brunette closes her eyes wearily as the young waitress cries shrilly; Ruby's words ghosting into misted breath as her eyes water fretfully. Shaking her head, the Mayor speaks in a low tone, her expression cold and unsettled.

"Mr Gold wants information I don't have. He says the Sheriff is safe, and... Well, I believe him. I have no choice. But Emma... Whatever's happening, whatever he's hidden her away for... I know her... I _know_ her... If Gold has stood between her and celebrating Henry's birthday, he has done so by force... I don't want to think about what that entails."

"Do you... Do you think he'd hurt her?"

The waitress's words are but a mere whisper, and when the Mayor looks up at her, Ruby's watering eyes are cast nervously to the floor. Realizing that she stands in the company of the woman who- along with the hateful schoolteacher- perhaps best understands her current predicament, however absurd the idea may be, Regina sighs, shaking her dark tresses fretfully.

"I don't know. I don't think so... But... That's not _good_ enough for me..."

"What information did he want? Are you _sure_ you don't know? Are you sure you can't give him _something_?!"

"...Yes."

Regina scowls down at her hands irritably. She had been thrown by the pawnbroker's motives, and feels rattled and unsure of herself. As to what he wishes- what will garner the blonde her freedom- she knows only one thing: she needs Emma on board, and, as much as it pains her, she just doesn't think the Sheriff has what it takes in her.

_You don't know that!_

True, she doesn't, but it's a risk she's not willing to take. She wishes inwardly that she had found some way to tell the younger woman about the apple. She knows such a thing would have been impossible to explain, but still... Of all the people she knows and is forced to deal with on a daily basis, it is Emma whom she now realises she would seek out- however surreptitiously- for guidance; that she would trust to offer some sort of solution. If she had told the blonde about the apple, about the kiss she still doesn't quite understand, then perhaps she would know right now what to do.

_I think I do, though. And I think I do love her._

She immediately balks at the absurdity of the idea, shaking her head in adamant disbelief. If she were to allow Gold's wish for the curse to break... She is crucially aware of the consequences that would lead to such a conclusion.

The Saviour loves or the Saviour dies.

She thinks she loves Emma, despite the idea taking her entirely by surprise; not just in what it entails, but due to the _strength_ of the emotion she feels for the younger woman.

_I do. I must. I must love her. Nothing else would hurt this badly._

Hanging her head defeatedly, she knows that she can do all the soul searching in the world, but it doesn't matter unless the Sheriff feels the same way about her...

And she doesn't think that's the case.

She doesn't think Emma is cold.

She just thinks she's broken.

She wishes she'd confided her fear about the apple. She wishes she'd asked the younger woman about the scar marring her stomach. She wishes the blonde would have asked her once more about the key gifted to her... Unimportant now, but meaningful nonetheless; the skeleton key to the Station's jail cells. A solid keepsake of a promise that she would never use the Sheriff in such a way as she had used her again. Never abuse her, never degrade her, never ever hurt her if she was able to refrain from doing so.

But she had.

She _had_ hurt her.

But she had also saved her.

And she does believe now that it was her kiss that was responsible.

And she does believe that she loves her.

 _Truly_ loves her.

"I can't give him what he wants... There are... There are certain things I am unable to do when in Gold's presence... I know that sounds curious, just as I know you are in no position to trust me, but... I need you to put that aside. If you care for Miss Swan.. For Emma... I need you to believe she was doing the right thing in believing in me."

"...What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to check Gold's shop... I know it sounds easy, and it probably doesn't make any sense that I didn't do so myself, but I need you to... I need you to-"

"-To trust you..."

Dark eyes find the young waitress's gaze desperately and the brunette nods.

"... You really care for her don't you?... For Emma?"

Ruby's words are quiet, simple, not at all like the pawnbroker's which has seemed almost accusatory. Ever true to her nature however, the brunette merely sniffs irritably and tosses her hair.

"Do I care for the Sheriff? Yes. I told you as much."

"No, you didn't... You said you were worried about her. You were angry at her for bailing on Henry. You never said you _cared_ for her."

"My wording is unimportant, why make it into something it's not? I care for Miss Swan and you said she _told_ you as much!"

"No."

"No?!"

"No. She told me that _she_ cared for _you._ "

"I...She... She did?"

"You see...Words _are_ important, Regina."

The Mayor regards the waitress in silent disbelief, her heart beating feverishly in her throat.

"She actually... She said that?"

"She said she was happy. That _you_ made her happy. You know Emma... That should be enough to tell you the things she _can't_ say..."

"I..."

The brunette frowns in confusion as her chest feels suddenly too tight and her eyes prickle with salt. Studying the dim young waitress curiously, she is as unsettled by Ruby's words as she is moved by them. She feels a sudden guilt for the grief she has given the blonde over her friendship with the young woman before her, and the fact she is even able to comprehend such an emotion terrifies her, as it lets the reality of her feelings sink in.

She loves the Sheriff; loves her and pities her for her lack of companionship in the past. Loves her to the point that she is willing- that she is _able_ \- to allow the duel relationship that exists with Ruby- with Mary Margaret- because she just wants Emma to be happy.

For her to be happy is enough.

"I... I care for her."

"Then tell me what you need me to do."

"Check Gold's shop. I will give you a replica to the key. Break in, look for anything suspicious; a crack in the wall, a seam to the floorboards... He has her, and we're going to find her... We wait until nightfall, and you go in... Are you up to it?"

"Why nightfall... Why not now?"

"Because, Gold is a dangerous man... You go now and he may catch you. I want Miss Swan safe, but... Not at your expense... _She_ wouldn't send you out so carelessly, so neither will I... We wait until nightfall, and I shall stand guard outside."

"...This is really happening? We're really breaking into Gold's shop to find Emma?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Don't be."

"Sorry?"

"Don't be afraid... We'll find her, I just needed to check I was still sane! We'll... You'll find her... I promise."

"You should never make promises you can't keep, Miss Lucas."

"I can keep this one. If _you_ don't find her, Mary Margaret or I _will_... Emma may _believe_ she's alone, but Gold's picked the wrong girl to mess with."

"... Touching."

"I'm serious!"

 _I know that. I know. And when we find her... I hope_ she _realises that, too..._

"Good. We meet outside the shop tonight. Eleven. Don't be late."

"I won't... And, Regina... It'll be alright. Emma... She's a tough girl. She won't let him hurt her... We'll sort this out..."

The Mayor's eyes shimmer in the orange glow of the setting sun, and she finds herself unable to respond and so merely nods her head. Turning briskly for home, she throws the waitress a parting shot; her expression grave but determined.

Ruby smiles at her thinly before slipping back into the chaos of the Diner.


	63. Chapter 63

"Regina..."

The waitress steps back apologetically as the Mayor jerks- startled- beneath her outstretched hand. Giving her a small smile of reassurance, she slips quickly into the small alleyway in which the brunette had been perched, pulling her companion along with her.

"What is _she_ doing here?!"

The older woman snarls, regarding the schoolteacher venomously. Glancing from the Mayor to Mary Margaret, Ruby rolls her eyes and whispers agitatedly.

"Her best friend and housemate is missing, Regina, I _had_ to let her know!"

"You... You're... You and Emma?"

Hatefully familiar green eyes regard her warily from the shadows and the brunette growls quietly as she pulls herself to her full height; challenging the younger woman with her stance alone.

"Is there a problem, Miss Blanchard? Because if so, perhaps you should run on home."

The raven headed woman scowls at her uncertainly, but shakes her head; her mouth drawn into an unhappy line.

"The only problem I have at the moment is that my friend is missing and that I'm standing outside some madman's shop in the hopes of springing her free... All I want, Madame Mayor, is for Emma to be okay..."

"... Alright then."

Giving the paler woman one last, lingering warning glance, the brunette dips slim fingers into the pocket of her coat and retrieves a small silver key. Holding it tightly as she lets out a low breath, she reluctantly proceeds to hand it over to the waitress, dark eyes intense beneath the cloak of her lashes.

"Remember; you search _everywhere_. Bookcases, floorboards, behind goddamned _paintings_... No matter how absurd it may seem... It could lead to something..."

Ruby takes the key timidly, her eyes wide as she looks from one woman to the other.

"This is crazy, right? I mean... It's _crazy_! We're... We're really breaking into Gold's to find Emma. How the hell did this even _happen_?!"

Her muttering forms misted breath in the narrow space of the alley, but despite the uncertainty of her words, she pulls herself together fiercely, resting gloved fingers on Mary Margaret's shoulder. Receiving a curt nod from the Mayor, she pulls at the schoolteacher's hand nervously and leads her out from the safety of their hiding place and round to the locked door of the pawnbroker's store.

"Cross your fingers."

Mary Margaret laughs nervously, her eyes wide and teeth chattering, watching anxiously as the skinny waitress slides the small key deftly into the lock and turns it cautiously with an audible click.

"We're really doing this?"

"We're doing this."

Holding the door open so that the raven headed woman can slip past her into the darkness of the shop, Ruby surveys the empty street warily before pulling the door gently shut; shrouding them in a blackness that blinds them completely.

* * *

"Did you bring a torch?"

"No... Just this..."

Mary Margaret waits fretfully as a low rustling sounds to her left, biting her lip as silence descends upon her once more, before the soft click of a Zippo lighter brings Ruby's bright eyes into view before her.

"I... I didn't think it through... I'm not... I'm not really a pro at this kind of thing..."

"You and me both..."

"Hang on... Wait... I think..."

The schoolteacher's brow furrows as the brunette fails to complete her sentence, but then a brighter light spills about the room as the waitress dips a slim white candle down towards the lighter.

"Better?"

"Yeah... Why don't we just close the curtains and use the lights? It'd be easier?"

"I don't want to risk it. Regina says Gold's dangerous... I'm inclined to agree..."

"You don't... You don't think it's weird she's not in here with us?"

"Oh, I do."

"Then... I mean... What if she's-"

"-But I also know she's on our side."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She's on Emma's side. Emma's on our side."

"... I can't believe you _knew_ about this!"

"I only found out this morning."

"Not about Emma being missing! About Regina!"

"Oh... Well... Yeah, I guess it's a little odd."

"A 'little odd'?! It's _crazy_!"

"Yeah, well, I guess love's never easy... If it was, we'd _all_ have it, right?"

"Love?! You think _that's_ what it is?! It's _Regina_! It's much more likely this is part of some bigger, nastier plan! It's-"

"-Do you trust Emma?"

The schoolteacher pauses as the brunette's face swims illuminated before hers, meeting bright eyes warily.

"Yes..."

"Then right now, that's all that matters. It doesn't _matter_ if this is Gold's wrongdoing or Regina's. Emma wasn't around for Henry's birthday, and there is no way she'd miss it without something seriously messed up coming into play."

"I know... That's why I'm here."

"Okay then."

Moving away from the raven headed woman to inspect a misleadingly loose floorboard, the waitress sighs, her tone weary when she continues.

"It's not Regina though."

"What isn't?"

"Regina didn't do this... She says she cares for Emma... And I believe her."

"Cares for her?! After _everything_ she's done!? You buy that!?"

"I do... You didn't see what I saw..."

"Did I see the Mayor feel up my housemate? No! And I'm pretty darn fine about that! What I _did_ see is that woman work her butt off to ruin Emma's chance at a fresh start and a relationship with Henry!"

"She-"

"She doesn't love her!"

" _Shhh_! What do-"

"Emma! Emma does _not_ love Regina! It's... It's crazy!"

" _Quiet_!"

"This is messed up..."

Mary Margaret's voice drops to a low whisper, unsure, and Ruby moves to stand beside her companionably.

"You don't _know_ that. I doubt Emma _herself_ even knows whether she loves her or not... Right now, that doesn't _matter_ though, okay? You can ask her about it when we find her... Just... Don't overlook the fact that there's a good chance we wouldn't even know there was anything _wrong_ if Regina hadn't come to me this morning..."

"I know... I just... I want Emma to be happy..."

"... I think... I think she is, you know..."

Sighing, the schoolteacher follows the brunette through into the back room; ducking nervously beneath various tapestries and out of place awnings.

"God, does this mean we're going to start having Regina over for dinner and stuff?"

"From what I hear, that's already happened."

"Seriously?"

"Yep, I believe your housemate cooked for her..."

"Emma _cooked_!?"

"That's what I heard..."

"God... Regina really _mus_ t like her... If they're still on speaking terms after _that_..."

Ruby chuckles lightly, glad to cling to this benign line of conversation so as to thwart the nerves threatening to swoop in regarding their predicament. Spying a thin sliver of light at the far wall, the waitress freezes in her tracks; holding out an arm to make Mary Margaret do the same.

"See that?"

Her whisper is high as she tries to keep the panic from her voice. Glancing to her side, she sees the raven headed woman nod nervously in the flickering light of the candle.

"That's what we're looking for, I guess... You think she's in there?"

"She must be... But... What if Gold is too?"

"That's what this is for..."

Mary Margaret gasps as the brunette pulls an unmistakable gleam of silver from her pocket with shaking hands.

"You took Emma's _gun_!?"

"It's not Emma's, it's Regina's."

"You can't! You can't actually _use_ it! We'll-"

"Shh! Stop whispering so loud! I'm not _gonna_ use it... It's just... It's just for protection, okay?"

Smiling at the schoolteacher with a reassurance she doesn't truly feel, Ruby motions silently with the barrel of the gun that the paler woman should move to stand to the side of the narrow swatch of light emanating from behind the hidden door. Blowing out the candle and bracing herself in the darkness, she grits her teeth as she makes out a low moaning sound from behind concealed hollow wood before stalking forwards; eyes glittering like silver through the ink black shadows.


	64. Chapter 64

"Impressive."

Gold mutters as he observes the two young women burst into the empty crawl space behind his office. Pulling the curtain neatly back into place, he turns to the Sheriff who currently shares the small, one bedroom apartment with him opposite his shop with a pleasant smile.

"Much sooner than I had expected, Miss Swan. I believe I had placed my bets for tomorrow afternoon. I forget what you wagered?"

Baleful green eyes regard him hatefully from the bed as the blonde glares up at him silently. After finding her this afternoon- bloodied and with the scrap of material he had used as a gag hanging useless around her throat- he has left her mouth uncovered.

It turns out the Sheriff is a woman of few words when in her current predicament.

Limping over to perch beside her, he fusses aside an errant strand of hair that tickles her face; its tip stained a dull maroon. Sighing as the young woman flinches away from him with a feline hiss, he rolls his eyes as he laments the Sheriff's undesirable behavior.

"How's the pain?"

Dark eyes survey her critically as the pawnbroker lets his attention fall to the blood-streaked rags he has bound tightly around her injuries. Her face remains alarmingly pale, while obscure green glitters feverishly from beneath purpled lids, her lips chapped and bloodless, but she has remained both characteristically insolent and thankfully coherent since his lackluster attempt to staunch the bleeding at her wrists, so he pays this little mind.

"Do you want to use the bathroom before we figure out what to do with you?"

Glowering silence, and he supposes he should be used to such ill-mannered, childish behavior by now. Pressing a long-nailed finger cruelly against sodden fabric, he is rewarded with a pained snarl and he moves so that he sits nose to nose with the Sheriff.

"I _said_... Do you want to use the bathroom?"

"Go fuck yourself."

" _Really_ , Sheriff!"

Gold laughs, shaking his head in amusement as though the young woman has just shared a particularly humorous joke. Raising an eyebrow at her curiously, he simply remains seated and enjoys her silent company.

Her white dress and childish tights both carry ugly blemishes from her foolish little bit of mischief earlier in the day and he itches to change her but doesn't see how this will possibly go down well in her current state.

In her _conscious_ state.

Sighing, his eyes wander back to the blood-damped fabric covering her wrists and he frowns. He has changed his makeshift dressings once already since finding more suitable scraps of material than the sleeves of his ruined suit, and yet still the pale blue fabric is blotted an ugly maroon. He knows little about medicine, but understands enough to be certain that the young woman is in need of stitches, and that forgoing them will leave her with a series of crude scars. He would almost say such a fate would serve her right, but he can't help but be plagued by the mental image of the state of her right hand- now mercifully covered and hidden- and the wary knowledge that if the frail bones she has shattered in her attempt for freedom aren't set soon, she will likely lose the use of her fingers.

She is a pretty thing, and the thought bothers him.

But such is life.

She should have been better behaved.

Lesson learnt.

"Do you want another pain killer, dearie?"

She doesn't react, but then he hadn't really expected her to. He has found early on that to offer the blonde _anything_ is a mistake. What is offered to her, her stubbornness refuses. Taking matters into his own hands, he simply feeds the chalky white tablet he retrieves from his pocket firmly between her lips and holds up a can of coke so that she can swallow it down. He looks away as she does so; having _also_ learnt that if given the small hints of privacy he is able to offer her, the Sheriff is not _entirely_ idiotic.

"Good girl."

She regards him miserably, and he is glad that she has stopped asking him why he is doing this to her. She seems unable to comprehend the idea of there being a bigger picture, and, as little as it bothers him to be thought of as 'evil', to be stuck in a room with only the injured Sheriff's hateful swearing for company had been tiresome.

"Why don't you try and get some- _Oh_!"

A knock on the door has them both startled, and Gold chuckles lightly at the sudden hope that alights the blonde's eyes. She opens her mouth- presumably to yell out- but the pawnbroker's laughter, along with the amused shake of his head, has her voice catching in her throat.

"Not a valiant rescue, I'm afraid. Not yet. Fear not, Emma, our guest doesn't bite."

Pushing himself up from the bed and grabbing his cane, the little man offers her a warning glance before making his way from the small bedroom out into the more spacious living area. Limping over to the door, he peers cautiously through the peephole, before pulling back shoddily painted wood and beckoning his guest inside.

"You found your way up the inner staircase alright, I see?"

"Evidently. A curious design, is it not?"

"Curious, but undeniably useful. I believe this apartment once served as a janitor's live-in space, hence the separate access."

"How... Fortunate."

"Indeed... Do you have what I asked for?"

"I do. Who's your problem?"

"The Sheriff."

"The Swan woman? Emma?"

Jefferson raises an eyebrow as he pulls a small, velvet pouch from his tail coat. He has found himself ever more intrigued by the young woman in question over the past few weeks, having started out merely watching her on occasion out of general interest; finding her arrival and that of the writer to be fascinating. His attention had fallen more often on the blonde than on August, simply due to the fact that the Sheriff Station's windows face North, and thus offer him a better view.

At least, that had been the case until two weeks ago.

As a recluse, the madman spends little time in the town; venturing out seldomly for the sole purpose of restocking his pantry. As such, it had taken him a good few months to find out anything more about the blonde than those things pertaining to her appearance and mannerisms.

Her favored jacket. The way she wears her hair down when addressing company but ties it messily away from her face when alone. Her tendency to pace about her small office with a pen held to her lips as though nursing a cigarette. Her slow improvements with the dartboard that hangs on the far wall by her desk... All these things he knows, but it is only two weeks ago that he'd learnt of the Sheriff's name.

Emma.

And wasn't that just a little _too_ coincidental.

"She's the... It's her?"

"It is."

"You're _sure_? You- What was that?!"

Jefferson cocks his head to the side as the old pawnbroker frowns, the heavy thud from the bedroom catching them both off guard. Giving the madman a harried glance, Gold follows him quickly through the door to the blonde's makeshift cell.

"Again?! _Really_ , dearie?!"

He grumbles irritably, dark eyes flashing angrily as he surveys the Sheriff pull her knees up into her chest as she curls up on the floor, her legs having given out beneath her and her senses telling her to give up on a lost cause; her pained crawling laughable at best.

"Bad move, little girl-"

"-Oh, put it away..."

Gold pushes aside the gun Jefferson holds trained to messy curls irritably, rolling his eyes as he uses the toe of his shoe to nudge gently at the blonde's hip. She growls at him angrily, but the little man pays this little mind.

"She was trying to get away!"

The hatter whines as he re-holsters his gun; unappreciative of being reprimanded quite so patronizingly.

"Of course she was! Why did you _think_ I requested you come here?!"

Shrugging off Jefferson's glower disinterestedly, Gold leans heavily on his cane and points at the Sheriff.

"Help me get her back on the bed."

Despite his words, he offers no assistance as the younger man reaches down to pull at the blonde's long limbs carelessly in an effort to hoist her back onto bloodstained sheets.

" _Careful_! She's not a rag doll!"

The madman rolls his eyes, but sets the Sheriff down a little more gently; eyes flashing with amusement as she glares up at him with seething fury.

"Pretty thing isn't she?... And you can definitely see where she gets some of her features from. She has her moth-"

"-Go wait in the other room. I will see to you shortly. I wish to make something quite clear to our dear young Sheriff."

Jefferson scowls as he finds himself rudely dismissed, but stalks obediently back into the living room. He has numerous questions of his own, and he imagines they will be answered much sooner if he stays on the little man's good side.

_And besides... He is not a man you'd wish to cross._

Waiting until the door clicks shut behind his guest, the pawnbroker turns to the bed and limps over angrily, leaning down to study the blonde with his fists gripping tightly at his cane.

"A rather bad move on your part, don't you think, Emma?"

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me? That's all you have to say? 'Fuck you! Fuck you!'... How dull. Never mind, it matters not, because here's the thing, Miss Swan; you can bitch and hiss however much you please and it will make no difference whatsoever to me, myself and I... But, you try something like _that_ again... And I'm going to grow pretty tired of your _games_... Now listen up: there are two ways out of this room, dearie. Either, you attempt to crawl your way over to the window over there only to find it's nailed shut- a factor I would pay no mind given the fact that even if you _were_ able to climb down, you would most likely crack open your skull in your current state- or, you could try leaving through that door right there. Now, you and I both know that you are in no fit shape to be outrunning _anyone_ right now... But, nevertheless... You show me such insolence again, and I _will_ break your legs. Do you understand me?... _Do you understand_?!"

" _Hey!"_

The little man laughs dryly at the self righteous snarl the blonde offers him as he raps his cane pointedly against her shins. She has yet to beg him or crumble down before him since her little panic attack earlier, and this is something he has found secretly rather endearing. Perching down on the mattress companionably, he tisks as he notes the saturated rags around her wrists have begun to stain her dress where they rest in her lap. Shaking his head sorrowfully, he gives her knee a brief squeeze, ignoring the flash of teeth the gesture garners him.

"I'm going to hope you take heed to my warning, Miss Swan. I don't _want_ to hurt you; it isn't part of my plan at _all_... But I will if you make me. Now. Be a good girl and sit tight. Young Master Jefferson is here to fix you up some tea which will make this all much more comfortable for you, dearie."


	65. Chapter 65

"What do you mean, it was a trap?"

The brunette enquires for what feels like the tenth time. She notes irritably the fact that both the waitress and the schoolteacher still wear their muddy shoes as they sit in her drawing room and hates herself for worrying about such things given the current situation.

She is still suffering from a mild case of shock as to the fact that both young women currently reside within her home at all; never thinking she would see the day where she and Mary Margaret would sit opposite one another sharing a beverage.

And yet, here they are.

The younger two women had come hurrying out of Gold's shop into the frigid night air, and she had followed them both swiftly; demanding they tell her what they had found. Their harried footsteps had been headed automatically in the direction of the raven headed woman's apartment, but the Mayor had soon come to a halt, worrying about leaving her son with the reporter given the events of the day. At her ill-ease, Ruby had simply turned to face her and asked if she would be alright if she and Mary Margaret came by in the next half an hour.

_If I would be alright?..._

She suspects it had been the complete madness of the waitress's suggestion that had stopped her from refusing such an intrusion then and there. Still, when her doorbell had chimed just as she had finished removing her coat and shooing away Sydney, she had been surprised to find the two young women standing on her doorstep.

"We already told you..."

The schoolteacher mutters irritably, her face paler than usual and her lashes wet as she shakes her head fretfully. Stilling when the young brunette places a slender hand at her knee, Mary Margaret rests her head in her hands and lets the waitress take the stage.

"It was just a space behind Gold's office. There was a lantern in there which created the light I saw, and greaseproof paper over a crack in the wall... The wind blowing against it made a whining noise and I just thought... Emma... I don't know. It could have been a trap. It could have just been our mistake. She's not there, though..."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Oh god..."

"Maybe we have this wrong, though... I mean... What would Gold even _want_ with Emma? Do you know something we don't?"

The Mayor balks at the question defensively, but there is no accusation in the waitress's tone, merely a simple hope that something can be explained. Something can be made clear. Shaking her head, Regina regards the empty hearth miserably, wishing desperately that its ashen logs were once more ablaze and that is was the blonde in her magnificent black dress sat opposite her.

 _Beautiful. You were always beautiful, and I should have told you so. I have no doubt you've heard it a hundred times before, the same as I wanted to argue at the time that you must have been called a hundred worse names than a whore..._ I _didn't mean it, though. I think I knew that then, but I didn't_ realise _that I knew it... Does that even make sense? What others have called you in the past means nothing, because this is now, and now you're mine, and I hope you understand that I don't mean that to be cruel, I mean that because... I need you. Don't leave me here with just these people I loathe so and have grown weary of conducting... I may bitch and gripe about having you about something rotten, but I hope you realise that_ without _you... Well, it'd be so hellishly_ boring _without you, dear. Dull and peaceful and everything I wanted and yet nothing I want_ anymore _._

_Please._

_I need you._

"No. I don't know anything more than you do."

Her heart skips a beat and she hopes she isn't being foolish by telling the younger two women such a thing, but she fails to see what other option she has. After all... It's not as though she can explain the technicalities of the curse to them. No more so than she could explain the apple to Emma. It is a burden she must carry alone. One shared only between herself and Rumplestiltskin and...

_No._

_Out of the question._

_Surely..._

Frowning, the brunette regards her present company warily before rising and gesturing primly towards the door.

"I'm afraid I don't know anything more, and I'm growing tired... It's... It's been a long day, and I would like to get some rest. I have a young boy who I need to look after right now... Should you... Should you think of anything... Let me know."

Ruby and Mary Margaret nod in unison, taking their cue to leave and heading silently for the door. Watching them go, Regina sighs, following the younger women out into the grand hallway.

"Thank you- both of you- for... Well, for trusting me. This isn't how I wanted this night to end, and I'm not just referring to Henry's birthday. I... I really thought we'd find Miss Swan... Emma... In the shop... I... Well, I suppose a part of me hopes this all really _was_ a case of cold feet after all. A part of me hopes she's sitting in your kitchen- sheepish and shamefaced- when you get home, Miss Blanchard."

"Emma wouldn't miss Henry's birthday."

"No. I know that... But I don't know what else there is to say..."

"Tomorrow."

"Excuse me, Miss Lucas?"

"Tomorrow. We'll carry on looking tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. This... This isn't some horror story... There's only so long the Sheriff of a town can stay missing, right? Only so long Gold can go without being seen in town? I'm sure if this was a fairytale story or something, it'd be different, but... She'll be okay. I know Emma, and... She's not gonna take shit from some old man with a cane, I'll tell you that much. She'll show up."

"You sound so sure..."

"I am."

"Oh?"

"She... She just has to."

"... I hope you're right."


	66. Chapter 66

"My apologies for that little drama, the Sheriff can be rather ill-mannered at times."

Gold sweeps back into the main room to find Jefferson sat on the floor with his back to the wall. Nodding over to a small silver pot that stands on the peeling work surface of the small kitchenette, he leans on his cane thoughtfully.

"How long until it's ready?"

"About half an hour or so... Any sooner and it may not be strong enough."

"Half an hour is fine. I don't believe we'll be seeing another escape attempt for a while from Miss Swan."

"Why did you call me over? You could have just put her under yourself..."

"Because it is something at which you are well practiced, and the young woman's safety is paramount."

"And yet she can't even support her own weight due to the trauma from the injuries evidently sustained to her wrists?"

"A minor setback, but she lives to tell the tale."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Well, if she is who you _say_ she is... Why keep her alive at all? I was under the impression that our wishes were of a similar nature. That the curse should finally be lifted. Why keep the Savior alive when there is a much simpler option?"

"There is no simpler option."

"No? You told me _yourself_ that the curse would break should Emma die... It was what made me reluctant to give the Queen the apple. It seemed-"

"-What apple?"

"...Regina paid me a visit only two weeks ago... She had me retrieve the apple she had used to curse Snow White back in that pasture in our own land."

"That's impossible. There is no magic here..."

"No, and I was not able to go back. There was only enough magic within the ring she provided to open the smallest of portholes and grab the apple."

"What ring?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, and she seemed reluctant to tell. Just a simple ring; a wedding band of sorts."

"She... She _gave_ you this ring?"

"She did, and I summoned her the apple. I had little choice... As I said... I suffered my doubts in giving it to her... Should the Savior fall under the sleeping curse; the chance of me getting my daughter back would go from slim to none... I was tempted to merely finish the job myself..."

"Regina... Did she actually _use_ the apple to curse the Sheriff?"

"I don't know. I would have thought so judging by the urgency she professed for revenge, but clearly the Saviour remains very much awake... It is most curious."

"Yes... Curious indeed."

Gold frowns as this new information leaves him perplexed and in disbelief.

 _Surely she didn't_ actually _feed the apple to her Sheriff... As the Hatter says... Emma is very much awake... Unless..._

_Oh._

_Oh my._

_Perhaps I have underestimated the situation after all._

_And that truth must truly_ _ache_ terribly _, I imagine, Your Majesty._

 _For if you_ did _poison the young woman only to be successful in reviving her... Well..._ Your _feelings are abundantly clear._

_But for the rest of us to find ourselves continuing this clueless existence..._

_That says more than I'm sure you would like about Emma's state of mind..._

"Whether she gave her the apple or not, clearly the girl didn't eat it."

"... Clearly..."

"So answer me my question: why are you keeping her alive at all? It serves no purpose."

"It serves _every_ purpose. That young woman lying in there owes me a debt, and I plan on making her pay up when the time comes. She is of great importance, not just to us, but to the Queen. If Emma dies, there will be a slaughter on our hands, you mark my words... And should the Saviour die by _your_ hands... Well... I wouldn't want to be you when Regina found out..."

"She is your student; she poses you no real threat."

"Never underestimate the power of True Love."

"What love? For the boy?"

"For the Sheriff."

"Impossible."

"Oh, no, not at all. In fact, when you sit down and think about it- which I have found myself doing a great deal these past few days- it makes all the sense in the world. I believe you would be hard put to find two people as well suited for one another as the women in question.

"But... for the Queen to love another _woman_?"

"What of it? The carnal aspect to their relationship, while providing some fascinating mental imagery, is simply a quest for pleasure. Love, though... Love is sexless. Your question should be 'for the Queen to love another at all?'... And to that I believe I may now know the answer to be 'yes'. Regina loves the Swan woman."

"But, I thought... True love... Why does the curse still exist? If the Queen loves her as you say, then-"

"-Ah. Because it is not _Regina's_ love that will break the curse."

"...The Sheriff doesn't reciprocate her feelings?"

"Oh, I am almost certain that the Sheriff _believes_ their affection is equal. The problem is that _affection_ is about as far as she is willing to allow her mind to go. I had thought it would be the boy who would break her, you know... But I believe there is something to be said for physical love. Emma reacts to the Mayor in a way that is completely foreign to her... But, alas, she has yet to discover the true depth to what she feels. That is why she is here. And that is why I am keeping her alive. She will feel it eventually. She must."

"... And what becomes of her after the curse is broken? If she doesn't believe in magic, will it not ruin her to be launched into the thick of things as we left them? She may find it within herself to love the Mayor... But to love the _Evil Queen_?"

"What happens to Emma after the curse breaks is none of my concern. I will have my power back, and I will be able to demand my favor whether she wishes to comply or not. Regina can't stand in the way of her paying the price for our deal, and, as you say... I do believe that once Miss Swan finds herself confronted with the reality of things... She may desire never to lay eyes on that despicable woman again. Who knows? Such problems are her own."

"A cruel take."

"Perhaps."

"Inspired."

"I have had a long time to think on such things."

"How long will it take? For the Sheriff to realize her feelings?"

"My, you are rather impatient for a man only recently privy to such information."

"You are not the _only_ one who has had a long time to dwell on things..."

"No. Well, as for the time it takes young Emma to bow down to her own emotions, I should think that really depends on quite how resourceful our delightful Mayor finds herself... I find encouragement in the fact that she has already resorted to accepting aid. Most surprising."

"How does Regina's searching lead to the Savior finding True Love?"

"Simple. I believe that right now, the Sheriff spares no real hope that she will be found. Emma is a peculiar young woman to say the least, and she is a woman who not only finds it hard to trust, but finds the fault in such a thing to be in herself. She doesn't believe the Mayor will find her, because she doesn't truly believe she's worth looking for. Emma needs to see with her own eyes the lengths that love will make someone go to. She needs to _understand_ that the Queen loves her. Once she understands that... Well... I believe she will find it within herself to accept that she feels the same thing. She needs to understand what love _is_ in order to feel it."

"... And if she loves the Queen... The curse will break?"

"When she realises she loves the Queen... Everything falls in our favor."


	67. Chapter 67

The madman curses as he is pulled rudely from sleep by his own unconscious nodding. Glancing over to where the pawnbroker lies stretched out on the sofa, he rubs at his dry lips pensively and stifles a yawn. The bed in the other room is a double and the Sheriff is hardly one to take up a lot of space, but the notion of sleeping beside her- drugged or not- had been completely out of the question according to Gold.

Jefferson shares no such gentlemanly concerns, but he is wise enough not to have suggested that he himself slumber alongside the blonde.

As such, he now groans at the cramps that course through his body with a sigh. After listening to Gold's take on things, he is unsure exactly what to make of the peculiar young woman, and before settling down to rest- a bottle of whisky, numerous questions, and only an empty house to go back to having kept him in the company of the pawnbroker- he had looked in on her several times.

She had refused the tea the Dark One had presented to her to begin with, but after an agitated threat that if she were to continue doing so he would simply physically _force_ her to drink the steaming beverage, the Sheriff had silently complied. The effects of the tainted leaves had been quick; dusky lashes fluttering heavily before tense limbs had visibly relaxed.

Since then, only silence has greeted them from the other room.

Sitting awake now, the hatter finds he is having a hard time corralling his thoughts. Gold's words make sense to him, of course they do, but it is harder than he had thought to sit so close to where the young woman who holds the key to ending his long and undeserved suffering lies and not demand some action be taken.

A part of him wishes he had gotten rid of her when he'd had the chance.

_I'll bet she'd have put up quite an enjoyable fight, too..._

He had asked the pawnbroker as they journeyed slowly towards slumber what would happen if they were to simply kill both the Saviour _and_ the Queen. To rid themselves of Regina, and thus avoid her wrath at the death of the Sheriff. Gold had pondered the thought for only a second before shaking his head and musing thoughtfully.

"No... No that won't do. The Saviour owes me a favor, and I refuse to let her out of that contract... Death is a brilliant excuse not to do what is required of you... She lives. She will fulfill her debt to me."

 _Exactly. To you. But what about_ me _? What reason do_ I _have not to take matters into my own hands..._

Cocking his head to the side, he frowns as he becomes gradually aware of a soft thumping from behind the wall. Throwing a quick glance towards Gold, he pushes himself up from the floor and creeps stealthily towards the bedroom.

* * *

"Henry?"

Regina speaks softly as she slips into the darkness of her son's bedroom. Finding her way over to his bed with practiced ease, she perches gently at the edge of his covers and runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

"Mom? What... What's happening?"

"Were you asleep?"

"No... I don't know... I... Did you speak to Emma?"

The boy's question is tinged with bitterness and the brunette sniffs as she shakes her head; moving lightly beneath the covers to lie alongside her son. She is surprised when he places his arms around her waist and she swiftly wraps her own around him, chin resting on his soft locks.

"No. I didn't."

"Did you look for her?"

"Yes... Henry... I don't think she's missing because of your birthday... I think... I think something's happened..."

"Like what?"

Henry's tone is alight with sudden curiosity and the Mayor laments the blind innocence of youth.

"Like... Something not very good."

"You think Emma's in trouble?"

Curiosity evolves swiftly into something else- something grittier- and she wishes there was a way she could keep this all from him.

And she could.

But the boy has a right to know that the woman he brought back here with him all those months ago and has placed so much faith in hasn't run out on him once again and left him to deal with his wounded feelings alone.

_And there's the other thing._

_The fairytale thing._

_Henry's book._

"I think that it's highly peculiar that the town's Sheriff is nowhere to be found..."

"But... Where would she have gone to? Who would try and get my mom into trouble?"

She winces as she knows the part of that sentence he has neglected to say.

_Apart from myself? That's what you're wondering, isn't it, Henry._

"I... I'm not sure yet. But I promise you something, Henry, and I need you to believe me... Whatever has gone on between Miss Swan and myself in the past... I wish no harm to come to her... And I will find out what's happened here today... I _will_ find her."

"Do you.. Do you think she'll be mad at me that I got angry she wasn't around?"

"No. I don't think she'll be angry with you at all, sweetheart. I think Miss Swan understands better than most the feelings you can get when you think a parent has let you down..."

She places a kiss at the crown of his head gently as she muses silently that it's not just the blonde who knows of such hateful things. Playing soft patterns over the clean cotton of his pajamas, she clears her throat and continues warily.

"Henry... Can I ask you something?"

"Uhuh?"

"What does... What does your book say about Rumplestiltskin?"

"He's a bad man..."

"...As bad as the Queen?"

The boy moves in her arms slowly and peers up at her through the shadows, his eyes narrow and his lip caught between his teeth in a way she decides must be genetic, despite it being a learnt mannerism.

"...Mom...?"

"Can I... Can I see the book?"

She feels him tense immediately, and her heart beats painfully fast in her chest. Regarding blown green through the darkness, she lets out a low sigh as Henry reaches down to pull the heavy book up from beneath the bed.

"Why do you want to know about Rumplestiltskin?"

"I just... I was curious as to how the story was told."

"Is this to do with Emma?"

"Your book?"

"... Has Mr Gold tried to hurt my mom?"

"I... I don't know yet, Henry."

"... Are you... Are you _really_ -"

"-Shh... Try and get some sleep, dear. I'll put this back by your pillow when I'm done, okay?"

"Wait! What's-"

"-Henry... Please. Trust me... Can you do that?"

"... You're really going to help Emma?"

"... I'm going to try."

She offers him a thin smile and slips from the room, not sure she can stand having him look at her with wide, distraught eyes a moment longer.

* * *

Gold wakes with a start, frowning as he tries to place what has caused him to return to the land of the living, before taking in a sharp breath when he notices the thin sliver of light shining from the bedroom door. Pushing himself up hurriedly, he grabs his cane and limps over to the other room as swiftly as possible.

"Jefferson!?"

He freezes as he reaches the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the madman's crouched stance as he hovers over the blonde.

"Step away from her! _Now_! I warned you about the repercussions of endangering the Saviour! Are you-"

"-I'd say that doesn't really matter anymore..."

"What! What do you mean?!"

"Come see for yourself..."


	68. Chapter 68

The Pawnbroker limps to stand beside Jefferson and lets out a low cry. Scarlet streaks smear the blonde's face and bedding from the blood-drenched rags around her wrists where crimson gore paints the exposed skin up to her elbows. Gold muses horrifiedly that the Sheriff looks as though a young child has taken it upon themselves to apply her makeup; her eyelids bruised a deep violet and her pale skin having taken on a grayish, chalky pallor, apart from at her cheeks where twin spots of fever stand out in stark relief.

"Emma?!"

No response and he doesn't think it has anything to do with the tea. Placing his calloused hand over her forehead, he hisses through his teeth at the sheer heat emanating from her.

"Damn it! Why didn't you _say_ something?!"

The Hatter scowls as the little man yells at him, wiping blood-dirtied fingers on a nearby swatch of bedding with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose.

"You came barging in only a few moments after I did! I heard a noise and came in to check on her, and the woman was in the middle of some sort of seizure! You're a damned _fool_ to have left such injuries unattended!"

"I didn't think she'd get sick so _quickly_!"

"Sick?! She's fucking _dying_! _Look_ at her! Look at the amount of goddamned blood staining the sheets!"

" _Enough_! Go get some ice!"

"She doesn't need _ice_! She needs to go to _hospital_!"

"Well she _can't_! Alright?! So shut up and help me bring her fever down!"

Gold snarls as he pulls at the blonde's limp form so that she lies flat on her back. Brushing sweat-dampened hair away from her flushed cheeks, he watches the madman scurry from the room with glittering brown eyes. Growling beneath his breath, he pushes the Sheriff's dress up about her hips clumsily and wrestles her woolen tights down slender legs in attempt to try and keep her cool.

"Oh, you stupid girl! You stupid, _stupid_ girl!"

Ignoring the flash of her pale thighs distractedly, he strips the sodden makeshift bandages from the blonde's wrists carefully and yells over his shoulder into the kitchen.

"Where's the damn ice?! Get me a bowl of warm water and some clean fabric while you're out there! There's a shredded shirt next to the sofa! And see if there's any bleach!"

Turning back to the young woman before him, he grimaces at the butchered flesh of her skinny arms nauseously.

"What the hell have you _done_ to yourself, Emma? Oh, god, what have you _done_?!"

He is glad the Sheriff seems completely out for the count, hoping dully that the reason lies in the drugged tea forced upon her and not in the amount of blood she has lost, but unable to say for certain. Glancing up as the younger man reenters the room with a bucket of ice and the remains of the clean, blue shirt he has been using to patch her up, he nods distractedly in his thanks.

"You can't seriously be thinking of using this on her..."

Jefferson states- his tone both unsure and tinged with alarm- as he holds out a residue-crusted bottle of bleach. Gold regards the offering with a furrowed brow, pulling at one of the blonde's arms to expose the delicately veined inside of her elbow.

"The skin is all infected. I don't have any antiseptic..."

"Then _get_ some! _Call_ someone! Shit! I don't know! But you can't pour _bleach_ over the woman's arms!"

"You seem mighty concerned for a man willing to _kill_ her not half an hour ago!"

"Yes! I want to kill the Savior! I want to get Grace back! But I don't want to torture some poor idiot who's torn her damn arms to shreds! Give me a gun and I'll shoot her in the fucking head! Put her out of her misery! Fine! But I'm not going to just _stand_ here while you inflict that kind of pain on the girl; Saviour or not."

"Then what do you want me to do?!"

"Get her help, Gold! She needs _medical_ help!"

"Fine! Take this..."

The pawnbroker reaches for his ruined jacket which hangs at the end of the bed and plucks a small clip of bills from the breast pocket.

"Go to the hospital and look for a man named Whale-"

"- That's... That's Victor-"

"-Yes, but he doesn't _know_ that! Find him and tell him that if he comes back with you, this money is his. No questions, and not a word to anyone or he receives nothing. Understand? Tell him to bring whatever medical devices and gadgets will fit in that little suitcase of his, but not a _mention_ of the Sheriff or of her condition! Yes?"

"Yes."

"You better hurry... As had the Queen... Now go! And remember to cover the door back up when you leave!"

Watching as the Hatter collects his coat and makes for the door, Gold turns back to Emma and soaks fresh fabric in warm water and cleans away the worst of the blood from her face and arms. He doesn't dare touch the damaged flesh at her wrists in fear of opening up drying wounds, but wraps two strips of fabric loosely in place to protect them. Using the remaining scraps of his shirt, he fills the fabric with ice and creates a makeshift cold-compress before fishing out a loose chip and running cool ice over burning, chapped lips.

"I daresay I'm going to be in a small spot of trouble once the Mayor finds you, dearie. Just promise me you'll hold up until then?... Don't ruin things for me now...This was all for my him... All for my boy... And if you give up on me now, well, then everything was a waste... Not just _my_ life for all these hateful years, Emma, love, but yours too... I don't _regret_ suggesting the Queen cast her curse, Miss Swan, but do not think for a second that I take _joy_ from the fact that in doing so you were raised the way you were... Or _weren't_ as the case turned out to be. It was never _about_ you. It was all for Bae. Magic... Just always comes at a price."

* * *

Regina pulls her nightgown closer to her as she slowly turns the page; dark eyes drinking in curious words as her mind struggles in its battle with her hateful duel realities.

That which she remembers. That which exists on the page.

She has forbidden herself from reading any of the tales that refer to the Queen- to herself- save for those in which her story and that of the golden imp are intertwined. It is a peculiar feeling, reading a narration of events she can recall vividly... Visually. More peculiar still is the way the book serves to fill in the blanks... The parts of the story where she- where the Queen- was busy enjoying her dinner or washing her hair while someone else took centre stage.

Another 'character'.

Most bizarre.

She has learnt a lot since settling down with the heavy hardback and a glass- which all too soon became a bottle- of wine. It is only now though that she finds herself reading the chapters she imagines to be key to this whole situation.

To the curse in general.

She reprimands herself for the hundredth time for not insisting Henry allow her to inspect the book sooner.

Such fancies are fickle however, and inside, she knows it. The boy would no more have let her read the pages of his book a few weeks ago than she would have given the information they yielded the attention she does now.

It seems the Savior needed to be present for more than just the breaking of the curse.

_I need you. I need you. I need you._

As she repeats these words over and over in her mind, she is painfully reminded of a time not a week gone by when she had barged into the younger woman's office unannounced- as was, by then, customary- to find the blonde singing along to some truly awful rock song; long hair tumbling wildly as she had beat out an idiotic drum solo on the desk.

"I want you to want me! I need you to need me! I'd love for you to love me! I'm begging you to beg me!"

Shaking her head to clear such thoughts away, the Mayor sighs as she goes back to her reading.

She had known, of course, that the Dark One's son had disappeared at some time long before she was born. Such a story was legend amongst her people, and certain rumors and whispers had concluded it to be true.

But the _way_ in which Baelfire had lost his papa is something she is finding out only now. And suddenly everything makes a horrible amount of sense.

The curse.

Gold's curious go-between behaviour when dealing with herself and the Sheriff; a puppet-master between his two starring acts.

Bae is here. In _this_ land. And everything she had thought was for _her_ benefit has been for Gold's.

The thought angers her. Infuriates her. Almost ruins her. But as she seethes loathsomely within the lonely, cavernous space of her drawing room, she realizes that one of the reasons it bothers her so is the fact that Emma ended up the pawn in all this. She knows her own heart well enough to be aware that the fact she is even able to even _think_ upon such a thing while dealing with her own serving of betrayal goes to show just how much she has grown.

"He needed me to get him here. And now he needs you to bring him his son."

And to know where to send the blonde to look... He will need magic.

Everything she has worked to build up will crumble down.

Snow and Charming and the rest of those hateful idiots that sought to ruin her in that other world will do the same in this.

For she is the Evil Queen.

And they will all know it.

_And, it's not just them who will know it- remember it- is it?... No... Henry... And Emma... They will know it too... And to see it with their own eyes will be little like reading about it in a storybook..._

"What happens if I find you... If I get you to love me... Only for you to realise who I really am... _What_ I am..."

_She'll leave you._

_No... No she won't... She can't... Surely..._

_Care to wager on that one?_

_Didn't think so._

"What will be, will be. I will find her for myself and I will find her for Henry. If... If she needs my help... I will give it to her... Even if the consequences end up hurting my best interests in the process... I will do what I can to help her."


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And I had so hoped chapter 69 would be involve a little more fun for these two... Oh well. I guess they'll have to earn it.

At some point following the Hatter's departure to go and find help- while he is working the fifth chip of ice gently over flushed flesh and dry lips- Gold hisses, startled, as the blonde gives a fitful jerk and begins to hyperventilate and thrash beside him. For a second, he believes she is suffering some sort of seizure like the one Jefferson mentioned, but when her hand travels shakily up to bat his own away from her face while her brow furrows distractedly, he realizes she is just entering a hazily confused state of consciousness and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Wha'dy' doin...'Gina?"

Her words are husky and slurred, but he has no trouble deciphering the name she proffers to his gentle attention. Frowning deeper, he pulls fever-damp hair away from her face and places the back of his hand worriedly against her forehead as she squirms lethargically on the bed.

"Emma?"

"What?!"

The cool brutality to her tone surprises him, and he can't help but smirk at the way her mannerisms remain so innately _Emma,_ whether she has a clue what's going on or not. Wetting his hand with the frigid water that soaks the remains of the ice to his right, he wipes the chilled residue gently over her fevered cheeks as her lashes flutter slowly and bleary green regards him in confusion.

"You...?"

"I'm afraid so, dearie."

"Where's... Wh-ere's... Mad'm... Mu... Regin-a?"

"She'll be here soon, pet... She'll be here very soon. First we need to sort you out, though, Emma... You've done quite a job of your arms. Do you remember?"

"Hurts..."

"Yes, I imagine it does. Do you think you could manage some water?"

"Where's... 'Gina?"

"Never mind that right now, Emma. Come on, help me sit you up, you need to drink."

"No... Hurt?"

"I know, dearie, I know! Shhh now, we'll sort you out, just sit up."

"No!"

Gold sighs in exasperation, raising an eyebrow as the Sheriff seems to do the same. Peering at her pensively, comprehension suddenly alights his severe features and he shakes his head slowly, wrestling with her slim frame so that she sits supported against him in the hopes she will be able to choke down a little fluid.

"Relax, Emma. No... Regina isn't hurt. She's okay, lovey, she's just fine."

"Henry?"

"Henry too... Everyone's fine."

The pawnbroker sighs uncomfortably as he holds the young woman awkwardly in the crook of his arm; his other hand petting her thigh distractedly as her forehead burns against his cheek. At his insistence that both the brunette and the boy are fine, she sinks into him weakly, her head rolling into the cradle of his shoulder. Reaching out for the glass of water he has placed beside the bed, he lifts it to her lips carefully, tipping it just a little to coax her to swallow while keeping her from choking on it.

Still, a fair amount of the cooling liquid runs down her jaw in freshets, glistening over the delicate bones of her sternum.

Pushing the glass away when the Sheriff gives a weak shake of her head, Gold lays her back against the pillows gently and checks the dressings to her wrists.

"I called a doctor... I can't let you go to the hospital. Not now... But he'll take care of you... Why did you have to go and _do_ this to yourself, dearie, _why_?!"

"Why'd-id _you?_... Why?"

"... It was the only way I could think to get what I wanted... Had I known you'd... Had I known you were going to react in such a way... I know a bad trip down memory lane when I see it, Miss Swan... Me, I find myself revisiting those times I loathe to think on and I dream of all the ways I can make those responsible suffer... I would have thought we were kindred spirits, dearie, but alas... It seems you have yet to face your demons... I imagine that was an arrest all those years back that went very wrong indeed..."

"No... You... Shut up now..."

"Wrong to unspeakable levels given what you were willing to do to break free of those cuffs..."

"S-top."

"Emma, you-"

"-No more... No...So... So hot..."

The Sheriff exemplifies her words as she moves to pull distractedly at the hem of her dress; her pale skin glistening with perspiration. Frowning, the little man pulls her thick hair away from her forehead and neck, his expression wary as he takes in the scarlet hue pinpricking her sallow cheeks.

"I know, dearie, I know. Here- I'll get you more ice-"

"-Off... Want it off."

She plucks irritably at the soiled cotton of her dress and the greying pawnbroker stops her swiftly as he cringes at her fitful movements. Swallowing with an obscenely surreal sense of awkwardness, he locates the narrow zip at the back of her dress and clears his throat as he shakes her gently to try and get her full attention.

"Okay, okay, I'll take it off... Are you... Are you _sure_ you want me to?"

" _Hate_ dresses..."

He supposes it's as close to a solid answer as he's going to get and so hesitantly lowers the delicate zipper and pulls the dirtied white fabric gently from her slim frame. Noting the crude scar that lines her stomach with distracted interest, he glances up at her face warily, but she remains focused on nothing in particular, lids heavy and long lashes casting long shadows across her face.

"What the hell happened to you, Emma...?"

"Told her... Told her I did it to myself... T-told her... Not why... D-don't... Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't touch me."

"...I won't. Just stay with me, ok? And we'll get you sorted out."

"... Hate you..."

"Yes... I imagine you do."

"F-fuck you!"

"... If you say so, Sheriff. If you say so."

* * *

The Mayor wakes with a start as the echoes of desperate knocking crash about her thunderously. Wrapping her nightgown firmly about her slender frame and slipping from the drawing room, she hurries towards the door with wide eyes; thinking for a moment the fists beating restlessly at painted wood must surely belong to the blonde.

Pulling back the door, her shoulders slump in recognition.

"Miss Lucas?"

The waitress's face glistens with rain and her long hair hangs in sodden clumps about her pale cheeks.

"I found something! I think I found something!"

Regina beckons the younger woman in swiftly, taking her sodden coat before she can even second-guess the gesture, and leading her back into the drawing room, lest their voices wake Henry from what is presumably already a fitful slumber.

"What do you mean?"

Bright eyes regard her desperately and the Mayor is aware within some dark corner of her mind how curious it is that the waitress has come to her alone, and seemingly in favour of going to the schoolteacher.

"Emma filed documents for the storm... I kept thinking about it... But I couldn't think _why_ it kept _bothering_ me so much!"

"... I'm sorry?"

"Yeah! I just couldn't grasp it, you know? So I went to the Station-"

"-You were able to access the Station?"

"Well I kind of have a key-"

"- _You have a key_?!"

"The deputy's key... For like... Helping with paper work and stuff, and in case Emma locks herself out, and-"

"-You mean to tell me the Sheriff gave you a key to allow you free reign of the Station-"

"-That's not the point! Listen! I went to the Station to try and figure this all out... I mean... I didn't know what else to do... And, I just... I wanted to be there, you know? So I went and I kept looking at those grey filing cabinets she has behind the desk and they were just _bugging_ me!... I know I shouldn't have done it- or even know where she keeps the key- but I do, and I did, and... I found this!"

Ruby holds out a slim plastic wallet containing several legal documents that seem hatefully familiar. Taking them from the brunette with a wary glance, Regina pulls them out for a closer look and freezes as her breath catches in her throat; recognizing them to be the very same papers she had flicked past before finding the documents that had lead to her own despicable actions. Clearing her throat and running a hand through her hair, she frowns as she rifles through them.

"What... What about them?"

"Read them. It took me _ages_ to get it too... It was like one of those puzzles they sometimes have in the paper. The ones where you _know_ the clues are all there but you don't even really know what you're looking for... I remember, because Emma was in such a shitty mood about filing them so I offered to do it myself. She watched me to make sure I didn't screw up, and then I remember her finding this one thing on there odd... All of the property damage claims were either about the shop or Gold's house... Except this one..."

The Mayor frowns as she studies the sheet the younger woman points to with a red-chipped nail.

"Weather and natural damage caused to window and roof of 31 B Main Street?... Where's 31 B Main Street?"

"I don't know... 30-33 Main Street is an apartment building but it's separated into numbered flats. I don't know what the B stands for. It's not on the call buttons... But... Do you think... Do you think it's something?"

"I suppose we're about to find out..."


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this whole drama has gone on a little long- I kind of screwed up with what I wanted to do so I needed to build things together slowly to achieve what I wanted originally.

"Good God..."

The doctor stands frozen in the doorway as he struggles to comprehend the scene before him. Gold sits awkwardly in chaotically creased clothes on the throw of a dingy, blood-dirtied bed, his hair sticking up ludicrously as he stares down at the _Sheriff_ of all people; the woman lying bloodied and bare but for simple cotton underwear.

"What the hell's going _on_!?"

He turns- wide-eyed- to Jefferson, who simply shrugs as he pops up from behind, raising an amused brow at the blonde's semi-clad state.

"Don't ask, don't tell, Dr Whale, is the name of the game. All you need to know is that your very future may just rest in getting this young woman better, so I'd suggest you start sorting her out if I were you."

Whale balks slightly at the Pawnbroker's rough tone, edging closer to the bed uncertainly. He has seen numerous injuries while studying his profession, but this... Well, this is something else entirely.

"Is she... Has she been communicative at all?"

"Wh-why don't you just ask _me_... Dumbass..."

The Sheriff grumbles irritably- her eyes remaining closed and her breathing dangerously shallow- and the madman lets out a short bark of laughter. Raising an eyebrow, Gold turns to the doctor who blushes in his confusion.

"Yes. I'd say she's more or less communicative."

"I see."

Placing the small bag which contains all he could think of to bring from the hospital, Whale moves to sit on the bed; clearing his throat as he tries to ignore the little man that perches opposite him, but Gold shows little sign of moving from the blonde's side.

"I'm going to take off these... Uh... Dressings, Miss Swan... It may sting a little..."

"Pretty sure I can handle it, asshole."

Frowning at the gleeful smirk Jefferson offers from the corner, the doctor plucks the soiled cotton gently away from her wrists and hisses through his teeth.

"Jesus..."

"Fix her."

"I... I mean... Her _hand_... I can't just-"

"-You can. And you will. Never mind her hand right now. Set it. Stitch it up. Do whatever you need to do. I don't _care_ if she's never going to be able to take up playing the damned piano. Just make it so that she at least has a chance to _live_ and begrudge that fact."

"Sh-it at piano..."

"Well, there you go. Fix her."

Whale looks from Emma to the greying pawnbroker and frowns, leaning forward to better inspect her injuries before pulling a pair of thin, latex gloves from his pocket and reaching for his bag.

"How long ago did this happen? She should have been brought to the hospital straight away! I mean... She... She's lucky she hasn't bled out! And here, look, her right arm's infected and her first and second metacarpals are completely shattered! I can... I can set her hand... But there's a good chance she'll have limited use of her fingers as you've left it so _long_... As for the wounds... Really, she needs blood... But... The human body is resilient... I will clean them and close them, but, without anesthetic... Sheriff, this isn't going to be much fun I'm afraid..."

"Because up 'til now... I-it's been a walk in the p-ark!?"

"I think the Sheriff is giving you her go ahead, Whale. As am I. Do what needs to be done. I just want her alive. And I want her coherent."

"I... I like those odds too..."

Whale nods, offering the blonde what he hopes resembles a reassuring smile as her eyes flutter open to regard him blearily. Judging from the scowl she manages to muster, he guesses his attempt has fallen a little short.

"Alright, dearie, let's see what the good doctor can do."

Beckoning that the Hatter should accompany him out of the room, Gold limps out through the door to leave the doctor in peace.

"You're sure you can trust him not to just blurt this all out when he leaves?"

"... I never said anything about letting him leave."

* * *

"No answer?"

Ruby enquires tentatively as the Mayor slams the phone back down in its cradle.

"I don't understand! Where the hell _is_ he?!"

"Well... It's like the middle of the night... Maybe he-"

"-Miss Lucas, it could be the man's own _funeral_ and Mr Glass would make it his priority to attend to my needs... You want to know what _I_ think? I think the bastard is _drunk_! I think the lowly no-good piece of-"

"-Maybe!... Ok, maybe he _is_... But _whatever_ the reason... He's not answering the phone."

" _Well that's not good enough!_ "

The older woman cries angrily; slamming her hand down forcefully on the table between them.

_The table both she, and Emma, have explored each other on._

Glancing over at the silver letter-opener that peeks hauntingly at her from its stationary pot, she shudders.

"I can't... I need to go look... I can't just _sit_ here."

"Look... I'll go check the building, okay? You can _trust_ me! You stay here with Henry and I'll call you as soon as I-"

"-No."

"Why _'no'?_ Why?"

"Because, it has to be me."

"Regina... I know you feel-"

"- _Quiet!_ You know _nothing_ about how I feel! I _accept_ that a woman you call a friend- a _good_ friend- is missing, and I imagine that's a terrible thought, but it is in _no_ way the same as how I feel... It _has_ to be me. _I_ have to find her!"

"So... What? I'm supposed to just wait 'til morning when you find yourself a babysitter to go look for her!? And _then_ what?! If anything bad happens to her, I just apologise and say 'Gee, _I'm_ sorry, Emma, but it turns out we were playing a game of who loves you more, and Regina won and I-"

"- _Shut your mouth you foolish, ridiculous girl_! No! I will _not_ have such insolence in this house! It has to be me that finds her, because that woman, along with Henry, is the closest thing I have to a family, and if something happens to her, then I risk losing not just Emma, but him as well! If something happens to her... _I_ need to be the one that stops it... It has to be _me,_ because I... I have to prove how I feel..."

"To who!?"

" _Emma_!"

"Emma _knows_ how you feel! You both love each other very much, and while that's just _great_ , I don't think it's a good enough reason to-"

"-No. We don't. And that's _precisely_ the reason I need to do this. She needs to understand what went on here tonight... That people sat and fought and fretted about her. That she _matters_. That she _is_ loved... I can't let it be you who makes her realise that... I just... Can't..."

The waitress shakes her head in frustration, but proceeds to regard the older woman with silent respect as dark eyes glitter with tears and the Mayor's usually impeccable composure comes crashing all the way down as she puts her head in her hands, her mouth trembling tellingly under the shadows cast by her palms.

"Okay... It has to be you... Fine. Then go. Go find her."

"I _can't_! Henry-"

"-Will be fine. He's asleep... And besides, if he wakes up... I'm good with kids."

"You're... What?"

Regina raises her head slowly, her eyes pink and face white. Ruby smiles at her sweetly.

"Just go... You're right. It has to be you."

"You'll... You're going to..."

"I'm going to stay here and try to get some sleep on this sofa, and if Henry wakes up or cries out or anything like that, I'll deal with him."

"... You will?"

"Of course! I'd do it for Emma, so I guess... I'll do it for you. Just... Promise me you'll find her, okay?"

"... I will... I will find her if I have to burn this hateful town to the ground..."

If she had expected Ruby to treat such melodrama with a sarcastic retort or giggle, she had expected wrong. The waitress merely nods, expression grave and mouth drawn.

She has no doubt the brunette means every word.

And _that's_ why it has to be Regina.

* * *

"Hold _still_ , I'm almost done."

"I _am_ holding still! Stop going so fucking _slow_!"

Whale glares up at the blonde as the young woman watches him work with gritted teeth and glittering eyes. He has learnt in the last half an hour that the Sheriff is quite the force to be reckoned with; weak with blood-loss and fever or not. She seems almost oblivious to the pain she must surely feel as the sharp flash of the needle works with practiced precision through her broken flesh; seeming more intent on growling at him than with biting back the screams of agony he would have expected given her condition.

"You're s-supposed to be working on my _arms_..."

"I _am_ working on your arm!"

"Then quit fucking looking at the rest of me!"

He scowls at her irritably, but can't deny that he has rarely gone about his work in the presence of such a splendid view.

_If you don't want me looking at you, then don't look that way in your fucking underwear, sweetheart... Because you are one tight, fuckable little piece of-_

"- _Ah_! What the fuck are you _doing_!?"

She yells at him; teeth flashing in a primal display of defence as the needle dips in just a little too rough and a little too deep.

"I'm doing my goddamned job! I didn't realize you were a _doctor_ , Sheriff! I didn't realize you knew how to do this _better_ than me-"

"-I know when someone's butchering a p-piss easy job! I've had fucking stitches before, you asshole!"

His eyes wander briefly to the scar at her ribs and she snarls at him angrily.

"Yes... It looks like you're somewhat of a veteran..."

"Fuck you..."

It's low, and for that he is glad. This pattern to the Sheriff's behavior has become somewhat predictable; a schizophrenic natural disaster of hate and rage before she tires herself out and succumbs to pain for a few minutes in which he carries on his work in merciful silence.

"Where... Where are we?"

He glances up distractedly, her words a low whisper- her eyes flickering nervously to the door as if in fear of being overheard- and he comes to the sudden realisation that a vast amount of the crap she has given him since being left to deal with her alone has been an act.

_Well._

_Partially_.

Now, as she speaks in a voice so low he has to lean towards her to make out her fear-filled words, he frowns; desisting with the needle.

"What do you mean?"

"Where is this place?"

"You don't _know_?"

"Would I be fucking _asking_ if I did?"

"How can you not _know_!? Miss Swan... What the _hell_ is going _on_ here? What _happened_?!"

"I don't know... I d-don't know... I... Please just tell me... _Help_ me... _Please_?"

"Of course I will, but Emma, I mean, what the hell is-"

"-How's she doing?"

The pawnbroker sweeps into the room with more grace than a man with a cane should possess; dark eyes finding the blonde's and piercing her sternly. She looks away, lashes fluttering and limbs going instantly limp, but she suspects it may be too little too late.

"You're looking better, dearie..."


	71. Chapter 71

Regina stands outside the dingy apartment block with a frown on her face. She knows the geography of the town as though it were the back of her hand, and so realizes that the apartments at the backside of the building will overlook Gold's shop. What she is perplexed by, is the fact that the three large cement blocks that were once- in a time she knows nothing about- numbered individually from 30 to 33, have long since existed under the collective address of Elstead Place. The separate residences inside are numbered one through ten.

No letters.

No 31 B.

She is certain that this is the place however, now that she sees the opportunistic viewpoint as a factor. She _knows_ it to be the place. Gold is sly, and possesses a vanity when it comes to his own cunning. He will have chosen the building for its location so as to keep an eye on the shop.

To watch as she and the others had failed miserably the other night and fallen into his trap. His decoy.

She is confused by the address on the insurance claims, but she will be damned if she is going to be thwarted by it. Pulling her sleek black coat firmly into place, she marches up to the first of the three doors and slips her skeleton key into the lock, her eyes flashing at the chilling click of metal on metal. Slipping inside, she stalks down the musty hallway slowly, raising her fist to knock on the first of the peeling doors, her other hand hidden within her silk-lined pocket as she fingers the butt of her gun.

* * *

"Go, get us something to eat... Get some juice for our young Sheriff as well; something sugary and calorific. If she doesn't feel like eating, it will tide her over."

Jefferson nods irritably, unsure at what point he has become the pawnbroker's lapdog within the past thirty odd hours. He is more or less unfazed by the turn of events, finding his present company a favorable change from the monotony of his solitude at home, but he grows weary of the little man's frequent threats. He supposes he will simply let such things slide until they become directed towards himself.

For now, he remains in Gold's good books, having complied with the pawnbroker's orders to dose the slippery young doctor, and has since then been left well enough alone, their alternating watch of the blonde uneventful and not worth arguing about.

He is glad that Gold has insisted they leave the Sheriff unrestrained following the disastrous conclusion of the last effort to do so. As a result, they are taking it in turns to sit in on her to make sure she behaves as she should, and he is growing quite fond of the young woman. She amuses him greatly, and her caustic remarks to his rambled monologues have him breaking into sporadic gales of laughter which she finds so hilariously alarming.

She had grown _particularly_ nasty when he had broached the topic of her role within the Queen's dark curse; hissing at him that she didn't know who in the hell he was, or why he'd been talking to her boy, but that he should shut off his lunatic ramblings before _she_ shut them off for him. This cold threat had left him giggling madly as he had studied her weak and wounded form laid out on the bed, to the point where the pawnbroker had come limping in to tell him to shut up. Frowning as the blonde had voiced her irritation at the subject of conversation, Gold had insisted he leave the matter alone.

And he has.

Unwillingly.

Now, offering the Sheriff a brief wave despite the fact she seems to be dozing, he slips from the room and dons his coat, nodding curtly at the pawnbroker who takes his vacated seat.

"How are you feeling, dearie?"

Gold inquires softly as he listens to the front door click quietly shut. His words are met by silence and he shrugs, unalarmed. The blonde's precarious condition has seemed to improve quite a bit since her injuries have been properly seen to, and her right hand carries a stiff splint; the fractured shards of bone no longer grating in a way he imagines to have been horrifically sickening. He is unsurprised that she should finally be taken by natural sleep.

He had been caught off guard and highly suspicious upon catching her whispering to the doctor, but she has shown no further signs of trickery; simply sufficing to glare up at him reproachfully when in his presence, and he supposes this is to be expected.

"Not long yet, I imagine, Miss Swan..."

The Sheriff keeps her eyes closed, resisting the urge to frown as Gold's words swim about her mind darkly.

 _Not long 'til what? What the fuck have you got planned_ now _you little psychopath? Not long... No... That doesn't sound good... Not good at all..._

She has overheard enough snippets of the men's conversations to understand that this all has something to do with Henry's _book_ of all things, some sort of means of proof, and the Mayor.

Regina.

She is becoming increasingly concerned that the brunette is going to play a part in this madness too, and the thought terrifies her. She doesn't know what in the world the hateful little man wants with her, but she has even less of a clue what he would want with Regina, and such thoughts bring back the Mayor's concerned frown as she had stated fearfully that she didn't wish for Gold to have anything he could hold over her. She is aware that she appears to be missing a crucial part of the puzzle, but she decides it doesn't really matter now.

If the maniac wants to fuck with her, then that's just too bad and there's only so much she can do about it.

She has found though, that when the stakes point to Gold going after _Regina_... Fucking with _Regina_... Such pathetic acceptance just won't cut it.

She won't degrade her current predicament by thinking of her actions as 'taking this madness lying down', but she has been made curiously aware of just how complacent she has become in regards to her own situation by the almost unbearable rage that courses through her at the thought of the little man laying a finger on the brunette.

It surprises her.

It frightens her.

It exhilarates her.

...She has asked to use the bathroom twice now since Whale's attention to her injuries, simply nodding at the harsh threat in her ear that the room's window has been nailed shut and that any 'funny business' would be punished.

At first, Gold had refused to let her go in with the door shut at all, but she had argued vehemently against such pointless humiliation.

She had argued because it is what is _expected_ from her. As far as she's concerned, if the old asshole wants to watch her pee then he can knock himself out.

But that wasn't the reason for her request.

She had wanted to gage the state of her body; wanted to see if her legs would remain compliant after the way they'd given up on her back in the bedroom. They had, and she had been relieved to find that despite becoming sickeningly dizzy, the trip to the dingy little room had been entirely manageable. Once inside with the door shut, she had grimaced and performed a series of stretches determinedly; her vision swimming and her stomach threatening to give up its contents, but her muscles responding quickly and thankfully.

Knowing that she possesses the strength to leave the bed if she has to, her efforts are now trained on keeping this information a well guarded secret from the little man. As such, she had stumbled purposefully on her return from her second trip, and has learnt that by digging her wrists surreptitiously into the ill-sprung mattress, the resulting pain will leave her momentarily light-headed and chalk-faced; something about which the madman had cooed over gently with sickening sympathy.

Eyelashes flickering as she hears Gold move in his chair, she cracks her lids open as little as possible and watches as he rises to go stand in the window to stretch his back. Realizing that with Jefferson gone and Whale- _seriously, what kind of fucked up scam_ is _this_ \- lying drugged up and unconscious in the next room, that this is perhaps her best chance, she decides to take it.

Her heart beats nervously, and despite her ingrained refusal to admit such a thing, she accepts that for the second time since waking up in this shit hole, she is terrified.

But that doesn't matter right now.

" _Not long yet, I imagine..."_

No. If things are going to close in on Regina, then she needs to suck it up and deal with it.

_You touch her, and you're dead, you little shit._

Grinding both wrists excruciatingly into the mattress, she gives a second of blind hope that she's watched enough medical shows in her time to pull this off, before forcing an intense tremor through her limbs; shaking and thrashing fitfully on the bed as she hears Gold turn at the noise with a cry, uneven footsteps hurrying over.

* * *

"Damn it!"

The brunette cries as she makes her way from the final shitty apartment; not bothering to offer an apology to the sleep-hazy patrons who had stepped back, alarmed, as the Mayor marched past them to inspect their flat.

She is mentally exhausted, having checked each of the apartments overlooking the store despite knowing in her heart that she would be unsuccessful.

Flat 31 B.

What the hell does it _mean_.

The only use of the letter B apart from as a consecutive form of address she can think of is 'Basement', but she is unsure whether this block of flats even _has_ a basement, and she finds the idea of the blonde being kept underground to be highly unlikely for couple of reasons.

The location of the building would be wasted should Gold not be able to spy on his shop.

And the insurance claims the waitress had presented her with had been for damage to the roof and windows.

"Well... What _other_ options do you have right now...?"

_None._

No. none. But she isn't quite willing to accept that yet, and so makes her way down to the lower hallway in search for a door to the basement.

After five minutes of fruitless searching, she slams her fist against the wall angrily, concluding that the damn building doesn't appear to even have a lower level. Shaking her head while trying to keep the frustration that prickles in her eyes at bay, she slips from the building with gritted teeth.

Closing her eyes as the soothing chill of the winter wind ghosts across her face, she pauses for a moment, trying to pull herself together. A small noise to her left has her lashes flying open, and she takes in a sharp breath as she makes out the retreating form of a shadowed man hurrying off in the direction of Main Street. Frowning, she peers back towards the building and wonders where the curious figure must have come from. Following slowly, she finds herself distracted as she glances to her side and notes a crooked hatch of rotting wood lining the drainpipe of the building at a slant.

A wood shaft.

Ignoring the inner voice in her head that screams at her to step away from such a dirty place, she pulls back the unusually large slats of wood slowly and ducks into the darkness beneath.

"Emma...?"

Her heart beats furiously as she feels around the dirty brickwork for some form of light switch; telling herself over and over that it makes no sense that Emma would be down in a place like this.

She prays she's right.

She is desperate to find the Sheriff, but this place is dark and cold, and her mind conjures up despicable images of rats and roaches crawling over the bare concrete floor. She can't stand the thought of the younger woman being cooped up in a place like this.

" _Ah_!"

She retracts her wandering hand fearfully as something ghosts against her flesh, before letting out a nervous laugh when she recognises it for what it is.

A pull cord.

Pulling at the flimsy cord with baited breath, she blinks as the small space is illuminated with dirty yellow light. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, she finds her mental image of the place to have been vastly fear-driven. The small cubby leads to a set of narrow stairs, which in turn lead to what she is astounded to find _is_ a basement. The empty space has been kept scrupulously clean, despite a damp chill to the air, and is sparsely littered with a collection of neatly labelled boxes and forlorn trunks. Freezing as her gaze falls upon a narrow white door which lines the far wall, Regina closes her eyes, willing herself to just go on that little bit further.

Making her way nervously over, she pulls open the door and finds herself faced with another narrow staircase. Leaning against the wall, she holds her breath and counts to ten, banishing the fear that courses through her blood.

* * *

"Emma?!"

Gold looks on, horrified, as the Sheriff seizes fitfully before his eyes. Hurrying over, he reaches out for her nervously, completely unsure how such a situation should be handled.

"Hey! _Hey_! No! Come on! Don't do this!"

The blonde feels a weak relief at his muttering in that she has managed to pull off her thrashing convincingly.

_And now for the money shot._

She keeps her broken shaking going just a little longer as cold fingers bury themselves cruelly into the smooth flesh of her arms in an attempt to hold her still, before freezing rigidly and then relaxing with a low exhalation of breath.

She doesn't take another in.

Lying impossibly still, she forbids her chest from rising back up, and keeps her limbs macabrely limp.

"Sheriff?... _Emma?!_ "

Gold shouts, shaking her as though she were a rag doll, and she makes a mental note to add it to the list of reasons she's doing this. Refusing to react to his rough ministrations, she waits for the inevitable, and feels a deep wave of relief as the pawnbroker finally leans over beside her- resting his cane against the bed- and bends down to check her pulse while dropping his head to her chest.

Moving with vicious speed, the blonde crashes up against his forehead with her own, sending the little man stumbling backwards in surprise; his right eye squinting shut as warm blood trickles down his face from a split to his brow.

"What are you-"

But she cuts him off.

She has little command over her hands, and so simply throws her body against his; sending them both sprawling in a painful heap on the floor. She is high on adrenalin though, and despite her current state, she is naturally athletic and this now plays in her favor as she had gambled it would. Scrambling up from the floor, she kicks at him ruthlessly, paying no notice to the pained pleading he chokes up at her, before honing in her aim and plunging him into darkness with a swift blow to the head. In her anger she reaches for the cane that rests beside the bed, but her fingers refuse to grip at the slender black wood as firmly as she's like, so she simply spits at the unconscious body of the pawnbroker as she stands over him trying to get her breath back.

She is vaguely aware that she has torn some of the sutures in her wrists as warm blood trickles lazily down her left arm from beneath her bandages but she finds she doesn't really give much of a fuck.

"Fucking asshole."

Her rage is quickly dampened by fear, as down below she makes out the faint click of the door opening and closing.

 _No. No, that's not fair. Not yet. I won one. I'm supposed to get away. That's not_ fair! _  
_

She holds no illusion that she is in a fit state to take on the madman. With Gold, it had been a case of tricking him. With Jefferson, she stands no chance of beating him in a fair fight. Eyes wide and breath ragged, she shakes her head in childish refusal to accept her situation; tears of frustration spilling out onto her cheeks.

"Fuck..."

She reacts belatedly, casting a glance down at the bed before sprinting shakily into the bathroom and silently closing the door. She is immediately glad she hadn't been foolish enough to crawl beneath the bed, knowing full well that with the way her head is currently swimming blackly, she would never have been able to scramble free once found.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..."

* * *

Regina steps into the silent apartment nervously. The place is small and ill-kept; the walls peeling paint and the furniture shabby. She doubts Gold uses it for much. Moving forward slowly, she gasps as her dark eyes fall upon the prone silhouette of the doctor as he slumbers on the sofa. The dirty rag in his mouth and its twin curled around his wrists leave her doubting that Whale poses her any threat, but also serve to feed her fear of the pawnbroker ten-fold.

Slipping through the small room towards what she guesses to be the bedroom, she stills her breathing nervously and pushes the door gently open, her eyes flashing in apprehension.

" _What_?!..."

It is barely a whisper, but it sounds horrifically loud to her own ears. Clamping her hand swiftly over her mouth, she stares down at the limp body of the pawnbroker in shock. Gold's brow sports a scarlet smear of blood, but other than his frail, floor-bound state, he seems otherwise unharmed.

Which leaves her struggling to control her fear as her gaze falls to the bloodied sheets that lay strewn upon the bed.

"Emma?"

She mouths silently, willing herself to blink the maroon stains to dirty sheets away as there seems to be an impossible amount of red glaring back at her. Shaking her head, she struggles not to panic- struggles to keep her thoughts sane- as she tries to comprehend the scene before her.

Gold lies unconscious and beaten.

The doctor lies captive.

So where is the blonde?

Jumping as she hears the telling click of the door, she hurries stealthily over to the window only to find it nailed shut. Turning back towards the bedroom door, she swallows as she stands with her back against the wall.

"...Emma?"

Her croaked whisper is quiet; laced with childish hope.

The heavy footsteps that sound from the other room have her heat sinking in her chest. The Sheriff is hardly one to move with exceptional grace, but there is no way a woman of a hundred and twenty odd pounds could be making that noise, boots or no boots.

As the owner of the footsteps comes progressively closer, she slips her hand into her coat pocket and shakily pulls out her gun, her lips forming a nervous, bloodless line.

* * *

Jefferson glances disinterestedly at the doctor slumbering on the sofa. He is unsure just how potent the tea force-fed to Whale had been, simply because he hadn't taken the time to measure the ingredients out. With Emma, it had been a meticulous task; knowing that should he get it wrong and cause her any sort of harm or adverse affects, Gold would be on his tail. With the young man on the sofa... Who really gives a fuck?

The small paper bag he carries from the all night convenience store rustles quietly against his chest as he moves to pull his coat off before making his way over to the bedroom.

"Hey, Emma, I didn't know if you liked apple juice or grape so I got you orange instead. I-"

His words trail off as he takes in the scene before him, eyes flashing down to Gold before honing in on the brunette with a frown of confusion which she matches as she trains her gun to his chest.

"...You...?"

* * *

Emma grits her teeth in frustration as she searches the medicine cabinet desperately, coming up empty handed. She's not sure what in the hell she's actually looking for, but she guesses she'd feel a whole lot better about her current predicament should she be holding a razor blade than not.

Her heartbeat is loud in her ears and she wishes it would shut the hell up because she's having a hard time concentrating on the noises coming from beyond the door; confused by what had sounded like the door opening and closing yet again.

_Imagining things, Swan, you're going nuts. Just hold your shit together a little longer and things will all be just peachy. The fucker will open the door and you'll... You'll... Fuck knows. Floss him to death. Drown him with mouthwash..._

_Yeah... You're fucking dead._

"No. He's not getting me that easy."

She mutters fiercely; negating to take the thought any further as she knows full well she hasn't got a plan.

Stilling as she hears heavy footsteps take off in the direction of the bedroom, she closes her eyes; waiting for the aftermath of the madman's discovery.

_"...You...?"_

Green eyes flash open as she would recognise the low voice that comes from the other room anywhere. Clutching onto the sink as her knees buckle beneath her, she forces her body to behave and wrestles with the lock on the door.

* * *

_"...You?..."_

Regina's voice is raw with disbelief, unable to comprehend just how twisted this whole thing seems to have become. First Whale, now Jefferson?!

The hatter nods, dropping his bag of candy bars and juice boxes to the floor, as he grins manically down the barrel of the Mayor's gun. With one last flickering glance towards Gold, he steps forwards towards the brunette purposefully, his keen eyes glistening as he wonders just how long it will take for the stupid bitch to realise she still has the safety on in her fear.

 _Amateur_.

Regarding the madman with wide eyes, the Mayor wills her voice to remain assertive.

"Where's Emma?"

The Hatter glances to the bed disinterestedly as he carries on moving leisurely towards the brunette, smirking as she pushes herself firmly up against the wall.

"Gone? See for yourself..."

He points vaguely over to the bed where the Mayor notes with growing alarm the twin silver cuffs that hang empty from the posts.

"Tell me!"

"Or you'll what? You'll shoot me?"

He runs at her without warning and she pulls the trigger on instinct, eyes flashing with fear when nothing happens. Dropping the gun with a cry of rage, she yelps as Jefferson closes in on her; dodging past him by sheer luck as she ducks beneath his arm and sprints for the door.

"Oh, I don't think so..."

The tone of his voice is enough to still her in her tracks, and when she turns slowly to face him, she knows before she sees it that he has found possession of the gun she so foolishly allowed to slip from her grasp.

"Jefferson... Let's talk about this... I... I can help you.. I can help you with your daughter, with _Grace_. I-"

"Shut up! You _had_ your chance! There isn't a single reason I shouldn't kill you where you stand! You left me to rot! You left my daughter without a father!"

"It doesn't matter... Don't you see... If you kill me now... You'll never see her again... She will _never_ know who you are..."

"You see... _That's_ where you're wrong..."

Jefferson shakes his head, laughing pityingly as he regards the dark woman with twinkling eyes. She is wrong. Gold may have warned him about killing the Mayor due to his own unsettled deal with the troublesome little blonde, but Gold is currently lying flat on his back with his head in the clouds.

_Feisty little princess. All the more fun._

Gold's concerns are exactly that. But he is Jefferson, the Hatter, completely _mad_ if some are to be believed, and he couldn't give a shit about some deal made with the Sheriff. If he kills the brunette, the Queen dies. If he shoots the pawnbroker, the Dark One vanishes, at least for a while. Then, all he needs to do is hunt down the Saviour- and he doubts it'll be too hard to find a wounded woman staggering around town in her underwear- and blow her fucking brains out.

Then Grace will be his.

Forever.

"No... I'm not wrong. You need me!"

"No. I don't."

The gun goes off and the brunette gives out a cry as she falls to the hardwood floor.

It takes her a split second to realise that it is not pain that courses through her, but surprise, and she struggles fitfully to pull herself from the irritable weight that pins her to the floor.

Her endeavors are thwarted however, when pale hands hold her firmly in place, the bony limbs digging into her ribs and side painfully moving to lie flush on top of her as she remains sprawled on the floor, her vision suddenly obscured by a veil of dirty golden curls.

A second gunshot echoes through the room, and she screams as this one sounds much closer than the first.

And then a moment's silence, broken only by the heavy thud of flesh on wood.

She buries her face into the crook of her elbow as harsh breath whispers against her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"...Emma?"

The Sheriff rolls off of her slowly, letting the gun she holds fall from her shaking fingers weakly with a sniff.

"I found it in his jacket... I'm sorry I took so long... I-"

"-Emma?!"

The blonde lets out a low yelp as the Mayor pulls her into a desperate embrace. She opens her mouth to tell the brunette to chill out but shocks herself when all that comes out is a harsh sobbing, and she buries her face into the darker woman's neck.

"Oh my god... Oh my god..."

Regina mutters as she runs her fingers gently over the pale skin of the Sheriff's back, not caring that her own tears fall freely to catch in the younger woman's messy tresses.

"Are you hurt?"

She sniffs as she speaks, but before she can give Emma time to answer, her eyes fall upon the crude bandages lining skinny wrists and she shakes her head furiously. Pushing the blonde away so that she can inspect her properly, her mouth opens as she surveys dirty, skinny limbs, unhealthily pale flesh and a few rogue smears of blood that dapple exposed ribs and thighs.

"... Emma..."

The Sheriff shakes her head, clumsily wiping her cheeks clean of salted tears as she struggles to get herself under control.

"You... You came to find me..."

"Of course I did!"

"Y-you... You came... For m-me..."

Regina sighs as the blonde tries to save face and stop her breath from coming out in sobbing gasps and pulls the younger woman gently back into her as pale arms wrap themselves around her neck.

"Of course I came for you... I love you..."

"I... I..."

The brunette closes her eyes as tear-salted lips find hers with shaky desperation, and fresh moisture cloaks her lashes.

"I love you too."

It is a whisper, barely audible, but for the Mayor it's enough and she smiles against the younger woman's parted lips, stroking her hand gently through tangled curls. A curious sensation of heat flashes through her without warning, and she frowns as she wonders if this is what love truly feels like.

Eventually, Emma pulls back, her face pale, but her eyes bright and her smile sincere.

"What... What do we do now?"

Glancing over at the men that lie sprawled on the floor, Regina frowns; inwardly complimenting the blonde on her brilliant question.

"Well, I suppose you're the Sheriff... It's up to you.. But if you're open to suggestions, I propose we use those cuffs there on Gold until you make a decision..."

"...Yeah..."

Regina moves over to the pawnbroker, inwardly wishing to tell the younger woman not to help as she lets her dark eyes linger on bandaged wrists, but she knows Emma too well to attempt such a form of reasoning. Instead, she merely helps the blonde as the paler woman clenches her jaw determinedly to hoist the little man onto blood-streaked sheets; watching warily as Emma fiddles the crude silver bracelets shut with a silent sense of purpose.

"What..."

Both women glance up sharply at the voice from the doorway, each moving just a little as though to protect the other.

Whale stares at them in disbelief, the rag from his mouth held between his bound hands as he looks from the Sheriff to the Mayor.

" _You..._ "

Blue eyes bore into the brunette, the emotion behind them unsettled and knowing.

Glaring back fiercely, Regina's eyes widen as she realizes it is not disconcertion that shines within those periwinkle orbs, but recognition.


	72. Chapter 72

"Victor..."

The young man growls and takes a menacing step closer, fury clouding his sallow face. The blonde moves in turn to stand in front of Regina, but the brunette finds her waist and pulls her gently to the side, whispering in her ear to stay out of this.

She wishes she could demand Emma cover her ears and leave the room altogether, but she knows neither party that shares the floor would allow such a thing.

"You... You did this... All of this... You _bitch!_ You-"

"- _Hey_! Don't you fucking talk to her like that!"

The doctor glances irritably at the younger woman as she barks at him angrily, supposing they must form a very odd tableaux indeed between the three of them; what with the Swan woman standing as though ready for battle in her fucking underwear.

"I will talk to her however I wish! After everything she's done, she deserves no form of dignity or respect! And who the hell are _you_ to jump to her defence? After everything she's done to _you_! What she's taken from _you_! She destroyed my happiness, and she stamped yours out before you were even born, you dumb little bitch, so why in the hell would you care how I talk to her?!"

"I don't-"

But the doctor doesn't wait to hear whatever the Saviour has to say, he merely lunges at the Queen that has caused all of his despicable misery with a blind rage that causes the brunette to flinch as she remains frozen in place with shock. She is pulled rudely from her numb state when Emma counteracts Victor's assault, sending the doctor, along with herself, into a snarling heap of flailing limbs and teeth on the dust-dirtied floor; green eyes flashing towards the gun that lies just a little out of reach. Before she can scramble over to claim purchase, Regina sweeps the weapon swiftly up into her shaking hands and points it at the hateful young man, crying out desperately to be heard over the alarming sound of the blonde and the doctor scrapping with a ferocity that frightens her to the core.

" _Stop!_ Get off of her! Emma, get up! Come here, get behind me!"

The doctor stills as he catches the silver gleam of the gun glimmering fatally from between delicate hands. He suffers a brief wave of fear, before frowning when he ponders the fact that the Queen seems reliant on weaponry rather than power. He moves to sit up slowly, his hands wet with blood that isn't his own and he watches as Emma pushes herself up onto her feet shakily, the dressings to her wrists ruined and saturated with fresh scarlet that matches the twin splotches of rage at her cheeks.

"She's not who you think she is, Emma! She's... She's _evil_. She's-"

"Hold your tongue!"

Regina growls as the Sheriff moves to stand beside her with a wary frown. The darker woman glances down at the fresh blood that coats the blonde's wrists and arms and grits her teeth, her fingers trembling at the trigger frantically.

"One more word out of turn and I'll shoot you where you sit, do you understand me?"

"No you won't... If you were going to use that gun on me you would have done so already, much like _she_ did when she offed the Hatter just now..."

Whale points accusingly at Emma who casts a fretful glance down at the crumpled body of the madman and stammers.

"Jefferson?...I _had_ to do that! H-he was going to _kill_ her! It was us or him!"

"And he would have been doing us all a great _favour_ , Miss Swan! If the Hatter had killed the Queen, then all of this madness could have ended! We would have been free! We would have-"

" _Shut up_! Shut up, shut up, shut up! I'm _sick_ of this fucking game! I don't know which one of you talked to Henry, but it's _enough_! I'm not scared of your fucked up little game _alright?_! So you just damn well quit calling Regina the Queen- calling her evil- because it's _fucked up_! You hear me!? I don't know what I did that made me deserve all this _crap_ with Gold, and you know what? I couldn't really give a _shit_ right now! But I'll be _damned_ if I'm going to stand here listening to you reciting such crazed, lunatic theories to try and freak me out! It's done! It's over! Gold is lying on the floor unconscious, and I'm getting the hell out of here! So you can stop with the-"

"-Stop denying what stands before your very eyes! Your ignorance is your own burden, but I must implore you, _please_ , step away from her! She is not who she claims to be; she is not the Mayor, she is the _Queen_! She ruined your parents, ruined your family, ruined your hope! You think what Rumplestiltskin did to you here was bad? That woman will have you screaming for mercy without lifting a finger! She's having you on, Emma! She's-"

Whale's words taper off into a pained scream as his thigh explodes into an abused crater of gore. Regina drops the gun with a cry, her dark eyes flickering to the blonde who stands motionless with her mouth open, and back to the doctor who curls up on the floor sobbing as he claws at his ruined leg.

"Enough... I warned you..."

"Oh jeez, Regina... Oh shit, you shot him... Oh shit..."

"I know... I know, dear... Hush now, okay? Hush, Emma, I need to think what to do..."

"Regina, he's bleeding out... He's... Oh fuck..."

The brunette bites her lip as the Sheriff mumbles fretfully, a simple glance in the younger woman's direction enough to warn her that Emma is on the verge of freaking out; her sanity already abused mercilessly by her time spent cooped up with the madmen that scatter the floor of the room, and now shadowed with the blood that seeps into the floorboards from the young doctor's thigh.

_Must have hit the femoral artery... How inconvenient..._

"Emma, go sit on the bed and put your head between your legs."

"What?! N-no! Regina, we need to-"

"- _Please!_ Things are already _completely_ out of control! I can't have you passing out on me!"

"I'm fine! I just- _Ah!_ "

Regina jumps and looks back at the blonde from her position crouched over the bleeding doctor; eyes widening to match the Sheriff's as the pawnbroker growls the younger woman's name as he slowly regains consciousness.

Chest tightening, her eyes flicker feverishly from Gold, to Emma, to Whale and back again. The Pawnbroker's dark eyes open blearily, and the cruel sneer he offers as those poisonous orbs focus upon her is enough to make what is one of the hardest decisions she's ever had to make. Lunging forward towards the Sheriff, she pulls her flush with shaking hands- ignoring the surprised yelp Emma emits into her glossy hair- and closes her eyes.

The sensation of power that courses through her is nauseating in its cobwebbed un-use, and she prays frantically that she possesses the strength to do what must be done. She is vaguely aware of slim fingers digging painfully into her shoulders as Emma clings to her fearfully; the younger woman coughing fitfully as purple smoke engulfs them and throws them into a dizzying darkness.

* * *

Eventually, the spinning stops, and Regina struggles to battle down a resultant wave of nausea; the weak retching that makes her frown in her disorientated state suggesting that the Sheriff has been less successful in this particular endeavour. Keeping her eyes clamped stubbornly shut, she cautiously spreads her fingers out at her sides and proceeds to explore her surroundings.

Her nervousness abates somewhat at the familiar feel of plush fibers beneath her fingertips, along with the unmistakable scent of sweet apple musk that greets her, and she knows without opening her eyes that she lies on the floor of her bedroom. Reaching out blindly to her left, her fingers brush against warm flesh and she sobs quietly in her relief, pushing herself up to regard the blonde as the younger woman lies on her back with wide fear-filled eyes.

"Emma..."

"...What in the actual fuck...?"


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so looking forward to being able to just write some less angsty scenes between these two, or, at least slightly less confrontational scenes... But they're needed to make this all believable. Fear not, though, this is listed as SQ for a reason.

_"Emma..."_

_"...What in the actual fuck..."_

The brunette moves over towards the Sheriff and lets out a low groan as the younger woman attempts to scramble away; her breathing rapid and eyes glistening with fear.

"No, no! It's ok! I promise, Emma, please-"

"-Get the hell away from me!"

"You have to let me explain! I deserve a chance to explain!"

Her words fall on deaf ears as the blonde pushes herself up onto her feet and sprints for the door. Regina grimaces as she doesn't need to be psychic to know what will happen next, but she can't risk letting Emma escape the small, confined space of her bedroom. Can't risk her running out into a world she isn't ready for. Closing her eyes, she wills the door to remain shut, creating an invisible shield to keep the blonde from disappearing from view.

As she had predicted, the younger woman collides with the door with such force she is knocked backwards onto her ass; her expression of surprise sure to be comical were it not for this hateful situation.

"Emma... Please, you have to listen to me, it's okay! It's all okay! Please you-"

"-This can't be happening. It can't! It... This is some kind of trick, right? Regina? _Right_?! What the... Wh-what the..."

The brunette growls as the Sheriff proceeds to claw at the door, almost able to taste the frenzied panic coming from the blonde. Rising to her feet swiftly, she hurries towards Emma as the younger woman begins to scramble at the door with greater earnest; her wrists leaving ugly smears on the painted white wood and her shoulders heaving tellingly. Grabbing her by the waist, Regina drags her backwards, trying to shield herself from an onslaught of flailing limbs as she manages to wrestle to Sheriff to the floor.

"Emma! Stop! _Emma!_ "

But the blonde has her eyes clamped shut, squirming fitfully beneath the prison of the brunette's thighs in a way that threatens to knock the darker woman off of her at any second. Closing her eyes and whispering a choked apology, Regina brings her hand down smartly across the Sheriff's face before falling forward to observe her, nose to nose.

"Emma..."

The brunette wipes away a tear that trickles from the corner of the younger woman's eye as a result of the stinging pain evident in the form of a red hand print at her cheek. Piercing the blonde's eyes with her own dark coals, she shakes her head when the Sheriff attempts once more to buck her off; shushing her gently as Emma's strength begins to wane with exhaustion.

"Please stop... Please?"

"You... You're... Regina, how did you _do_ that... H-how are we _here?!_ "

"... You know the answer to that, dear... Victor all but told you... As has Henry many a time..."

"No. No, no, _no_... Not you, too... Regina, please! I _can't_! I... I feel sick... It hurts... I can't... I can't _do_ this right now... W-why are you all _doing_ this to me!?"

The Queen sighs sadly as the Sheriff begins to weep once more, not accustomed to dealing with Emma like this, and hating the way the younger woman's face speaks of nothing but misery. Running her fingers gently through golden curls, she proceeds to slide her hands beneath the blonde's shoulder blades, and wrestles her over to the bed; propping her up so that she rests slouched against its end.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen, you have to believe me... If I had my way, you would have never found out... I don't know what to say... All I can do is ask you to think back to when you came here and how I acted towards you, and how that's _changed_... None of how I've been with you has had anything to do with the... The Curse... Just please try to remember that?"

"I just... H-henry's been asking me to accept that everyone's a fucking fairytale character all this time, and it's crazy! And I just... They all tell me you're the Evil Queen, a-and... I said it was nuts, but...What you just did... Th-that was magic? We... You... I can't..."

"...I want to show you something."

Regina moves so that she sits beside the blonde; her spirits lifting momentarily when Emma doesn't shy away from her, but she isn't naïve enough to truly believe the younger woman's reaction is a result of anything but simple exhaustion. Still, she takes the Sheriff's hands gently in her own and carefully removes the ripped bandaging ruined during her scrap with the doctor. Hissing through her teeth at the carnage that lies beneath, she glances up at Emma who looks down at her abused wrists with an awful kind of expressionless apathy.

"This shouldn't hurt, I don't think..."

The Queen moves her hands over the blonde's wrists slowly, cautious of the knowledge that what she is going to try to do may well result in the Sheriff well and truly reaching her limit. She doesn't want to scare the younger woman any more than she has to, but she _does_ need to prove herself, and fast. Allowing just the smallest amount of power to leave her fingertips to find the blonde's wrists in a purple haze, she mutters quietly as Emma lets out a low cry and trembles beside her.

"Shhh, just watch, dear, just watch... I need you to trust me... Can you do that?"

"I..."

"Please?"

"...I trust you..."

Regina blinks rapidly, not having been so bold as to expect the Sheriff to answer in the affirmative but elated by the answer she has been offered. Allowing just a little more force to touch the blonde's ruined flesh, she watches alongside the younger woman as angry, raw lacerations begin to heal before her very eyes; not sure if she should laugh or cry at Emma's low muttering of 'fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck' in her ear.

Taking the Sheriff's broken hand in her own, she works her magic a little deeper, knitting together fractured shards with sorrowful flinches at each pained hiss that escapes the blonde's lips.

"Try to move your fingers..."

"I _can't_! I... Oh shit..."

Green eyes widen as pale fingers flutter slowly but ably. Turning to the brunette, Emma lets out a low noise of distress and the darker woman pulls her swiftly into her, allowing the Sheriff to hide her face in the soft fabric of her coat.

"I _know_ it's a lot to take in... I know, dear... And I don't know what's going to happen... I'm hardly viewed favourably by any of those I brought here. Your... Your parents being at the top of that list... Emma, if I could change things now, I would... But I was young, and foolish, and I... It's not as simple as how it looks when written on the page... I-"

"-You ruined _everything_... M-my _parents_! Are you fucking k-kidding me?! I'm just supposed to-"

"-Don't say that! _Please_ , don't say that! I don't expect you to _do_ anything... You're not _supposed_ to do anything... I... Please... Don't say that..."

Regina tightens her arms around the Sheriff in a desperate plea to keep her close, but the younger woman squirms free determinedly, sitting back so that she can survey the darker woman with bloodshot, incredulous eyes, her face pale and streaked with dirty tear-tracks.

"You... Do you know what I _went_ through?! The shit I dealt with because of what you... What you _did_?! Because I didn't have my fucking parents?!"

"And do you know what _I_ went through because of your parents?! Emma... I can't make this all go away... Well, no, that's a lie... Do you know how easy it would be right now for me to make it so that you had no clue anything was amiss? I could make it so that you remembered only the things I wanted you to remember..."

Panic flashes nakedly across the younger woman's face and the brunette shakes her head, sniffing delicately.

"I would never do that to you, Emma... If you find you can't deal with what you have uncovered... If you can't bare to see me... I would hate that... I would wish it were different... But I would never do something like that to you... I love you."

"Please... Don't."

"I came for you."

"Regina..."

"I need you."

The blonde shakes her head slowly and the Queen bites back her instinctual anger, the resulting noise echoing loudly between them in the form of a sob. She watches as Emma gets shakily to her feet, the younger woman moving towards the door before turning back defeatedly.

"Is it still locked?"

"No... No, I'll let you go if it's what you want... I...Here, take these before you go."

Regina rises stiffly and moves to her wardrobe, hiding her face so as to mask the tears that flow freely. She finds a pair of plain black slacks she imagines will fit the blonde just a little snuggly, and a cashmere V-necked sweater. She holds them out silently to Emma who dons them swiftly; no showiness to her actions which, while understandable, saddens the brunette as it all seems terribly final. Sniffing as the Sheriff shrugs awkwardly and nods her farewell, Regina pauses hesitantly by the bed and speaks up in a low voice.

"What's going to happen?"

"... I don't know."

"Will you... Are you coming back? Here, I mean?"

"I... I need to go sort out my head...I need to go talk to Mary Margaret... I... I have to have some space from _you_..."

"Okay... Well-"

"-But I won't forget what you did for me today. I... I do lo-... I have to go... But, please... Stay out of trouble?"

"I will... I can't promise trouble won't find _me_ , though, Miss Swan."

"... The curse may have broken or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but I'm still the Sheriff. You have my number... Use it if you have to."

"... Thank you."

"Bye, Regina."

"Goodbye, Emma... For now?"

"... Bye, Regina."


	74. Chapter 74

"You still okay?"

The waitress asks nervously as she walks beside the blonde; trying and failing to keep some of the joy from her voice so as to match Emma's clearly ominous mood. The Sheriff offers her a curt nod, not bothering with the transparently thin-lipped smile she has offered Ruby the last three times the younger woman has asked this very question, but, when Henry slips his small hand into hers, she squeezes it tightly, wrapping her arm around his shoulders as the boy wraps his own around her waist.

"Are you excited?"

She glances down at him distractedly, wondering what would constitute as the 'right' answer in this situation, but she is saved from what seems to her to be an impossible task when Ruby pipes up animatedly.

"Of _course_ she is! But this is all pretty sudden, Henry... Your mom needs some time to get her head around it all I'll bet!"

The brunette frowns when her words are greeted with a small shrug from her friend and she tries to coach her features to form a more morose expression. She has asked several times now what happened while the blonde had been captured, but Emma has made it abundantly clear she doesn't want to discuss such matters. Ruby had thought at first her reluctance to talk may have been due to Henry's presence, but the more she studies the Sheriff out of the corner of her eye, the more she comes to the conclusion that the older woman doesn't look well. Not well at all.

_She said she was okay..._

She frowns as she thinks back to Emma's declaration while in the Mayor's hallway. She herself had awoken to the sound of voices up above; instantly recognizing that of her friend, while at the same time finding that low drawl to be curious.

That voice was from _here_... Not from _there_.

The elation of thinking of herself as Red rather than Ruby had been increased ten-fold by the knowledge that the blonde was safe and sound upstairs talking to the Queen.

The _Evil_ Queen.

She had balked at that, her instincts screaming at her to get the hell out of the witch's house, while in the meantime begging the question of just what the Sheriff was going to make of all this.

Emma's expression when she had finally come into view in the hallway had spoken volumes.

The boy had come bounding out of his room, embracing his mother fiercely while apologizing for 'being a jerk' and asking her what she was doing there. One look at the blonde's face had been enough for the brunette to hurry quickly over- claim her own hug- and rescue the Sheriff from the inquisitive barrage of questions sure to come from the ten year old.

Green eyes had studied her warily, before her friend had asked her if she was 'different now' too. She had grinned, overjoyed, and pulled the blonde into another tight embrace, whispering 'You did it, Emma, you saved us!' much to Henry's delight.

She had asked about Regina, but had received a look of such warning that it had left her changing subjects hastily. When Emma had muttered she should make her way home to find Mary Margaret, both she and Henry had tagged along without any hesitation; Henry sparing no question as to whether doing so would be allowed, and the waitress imagines that such a thing was telling of how things were going to go now. She had almost expressed such a thought to her friend, but Emma hadn't seemed particularly keen on making conversation, leaving them where they are now; walking in semi-uncomfortable silence.

"Well _I'd_ be excited if I were you! You finally get to meet Snow White and Prince Charming! And they'll know who you are and-... Are you okay? Are you sick?"

The blonde shakes her head slowly, although she has to admit, she's felt a great deal better than she does right now, but she doesn't think the sickness she feels is the sort to which her son is referring.

"No, I'm fine... Just nervous I guess..."

"You already met the Evil Queen! How much worse can it get!"

Ruby bites her lip awkwardly as the Sheriff scowls darkly, offering Henry a small shrug and a wide smile when he glances up at her; confused at his mother's reaction.

"...Mom? Are you-"

"-I'm fine Henry. You shouldn't call your mother that, though."

"But she _is_! Emma! You-"

"-Enough. I don't want to hear it."

The boy huffs at the cold reprimand offered to him by the blonde and Ruby blinks in surprise. She is used to the cutting tone the Sheriff is prone to taking, but has never heard her speak in such a way to her son. In the yellow glow of the streetlights her friend's face appears haggard and worn, and she supposes it can't be easy for the blonde to have learnt of the Mayor's true identity.

 _The Evil Queen... I'm sorry, Emma... I am... But just how much of the past was Regina_ aware _of?... Surely_ _she_ _would have allowed_ herself _the benefit of the truth... But, if that_ were _so... The Evil Queen strived to protect the Saviour... If that were so... She loves you... She loves you, evil or not._

"Do you want us to wait outside when you go in?"

The blonde looks up at the waitress distractedly, pulling the soft wool of her loaned sweater tighter around her slim frame. It fits her awkwardly, and she wishes the wind would either pick up or die down so that it would desist serving her the delicate scent of apples she has come to associate with the Mayor.

With the Queen.

Her muscles ache and she imagines the headache she is having a hard time battling against is as much a result of lack of proper food and water as it is the craziness that impends on her. Her wrists feel warm and a little sore, but she forbids herself from looking down at the curious white lines that mark her pale skin where there should be ruined flesh and ugly stitching.

 _Do I want you to wait outside... Wait outside while I go pop in and say 'hi' to Snow White?... How am I supposed to even know the_ answer _to such a question?_

She shrugs, aware that this is becoming a bit of a theme as they walk along and hating herself for being what she is sure is the dampener to her friend's well deserved happiness, but not able to help herself. If Ruby really is some fucking wolf, Red, whatever, then good for her. She wants only good things for the young waitress- her heart filled with a strong fondness for the young brunette- but she doesn't quite know how to make her face preform the necessary expressions to show it.

 _I don't know what to tell you, Ruby... Red... Whoever you are. I don't know what to think or what to feel. The only person I want to be with is the reason I spent my whole life up until meeting her completely alone. The reason why I have no father, no mother... And now the woman we're on our way to see is the very woman that the only person I've ever come to truly love... That_ deserved _my love... Endeavoured to destroy... Forgive me, but I'm not sure what would be considered the 'right' thing to say about all this._

She sighs, alarmed at the telling prickle of tears that finds her tired eyes, and she muses that for someone that rarely cries, Regina has brought out a side of her that is terribly watery for her liking. Sniffing, she rolls her eyes at the absurdity of it all. Her thoughts are muddled, for she _does_ love another... She loves the kid... And she _has_ loved another... Neal... But there is a pain to the emotion she attaches to the Mayor that makes her sure that this is something else entirely.

It must be _true_ love, because nothing else would hurt quite so badly.

 _You've been reading too many fairytales... Or perhaps not enough as the case may be... But think on it, Swan... You loved Neal, and it hurt when_ he _fucked you over too... Don't make this into something it's not. The woman was nice to you, she made you feel good... That's all there is to it. Don't clutch at straws._

 _No. She came to find me. I_ matter _to her. Not as the fucking Saviour. As Emma._

Shaking her head, she wrestles her hands into the pockets of the tight slacks the brunette leant her, and watches her breath mist in front of her, illuminated by the streetlights. She is relieved that they walk in the darkness of the early hours; not sure she would have been able to deal with making her way home with the regular hustle and bustle of Storybrooke's patrons out on the streets. She imagines what it must be like; waking up to discover you are someone else entirely. The thought has a certain amount of romanticism to it... But it turns out, she's just Emma.

Somehow, it just doesn't seem like it's enough.

"Hey, Kid... Will she even know it's me? Like... I mean... I was a baby when I went through that wardrobe thing, and I-"

Her words are cut off as the three of them let out a simultaneous cry of surprise, each shielding their face from the harsh beam of light that pierces the darkness and blocks out all but the owner's silhouette.

"...Emma?"

The blonde nods, her hand still shielding her eyes as she instinctively puts an arm around her son's shoulders.

"Who's there?"

She recognizes the voice, but struggles to place it. Blinking rapidly as the torchlight sways to illuminate the ground, she lets out a low yelp as strong arms pull her into an overbearing embrace. Struggling free, she waits for her eyes to adjust to the new semi-darkness before speaking shakily.

"David?"

"Oh my god! Snow! Over here!"

The light pattering of moccasins on concrete and suddenly skinnier arms wrap themselves around her shoulders as her housemate presses her mouth firmly to her cheek.

"Oh, Emma! I was so worried! My... My girl... My..."

The raven headed woman's words taper off into heavy sobs, and the blonde plays with a thread on Henry's coat nervously as the boy beams up at his grandparents. Biting her lip as the schoolteacher lets out a second cry and embraces the waitress- who hugs her back fiercely- she looks up at David awkwardly when he places a hand on her shoulder.

"What, uh, what are you guys doing out here?"

"Looking for _you,_ Emma! What happened? Snow...Well... Mary Margaret called me and told me you were missing. We went out to look for you, and... There was this sudden warmth- a heat- and... You did it, baby, you broke the curse!"

"I knew she could do it!"

Emma looks down at Henry who pipes up proudly, wondering just what the boy would say if he only knew _how_ the curse had been lifted. Hanging her head awkwardly, she closes her eyes as Mary Margaret hurries back over and pulls her close, her face becoming buried in the comfortingly familiar scent of the older woman's coat.

"My little girl..."

The blonde cringes, not knowing how best to deal with this situation, but sure that however she goes about doing it will be the wrong way. She has never been one to excel with emotion.

_Regina understood._

Mumbling into her mother's short locks, she sniffs as the schoolteacher laughs shakily and wipes the tears she hadn't realized had fallen away from her pale cheeks.

"I'm bigger than you are..."

"Oh, Emma... I... I'm _so_ proud of you...You saved us... You saved _everyone_..."

_Doesn't feel that way._

"Are you okay?!"

"Yeah."

_No._

"Oh my god, thank god... Come, let's go home. Let's get you warmed up! I'll make us all some hot chocolate, just the way you like it... Oh, there's so much I want to ask you! And I imagine you are just _full_ of questions for us! Come on, that's right..."

The Sheriff allows herself to be pulled in close to her housemate, the raven headed woman linking an arm through her own companionably while shooting her affectionate glances the blonde studies the pavement awkwardly to ignore. Henry bounds up to join David and Red as they stroll a little ahead, and Emma frowns as the kid allows his hand to be taken by the man without question.

_Am I the only one not thrilled by all this?_

* * *

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

Mary Margaret asks worriedly, perching on the sofa beside the blonde and placing the back of her hand gently against the latter's forehead. Emma nods irritably, ducking away from the schoolteacher's attention.

"I'm fine... Just... Kind of trying to keep my brain intact, you know?... This is a lot..."

"I can imagine..."

Snow confides quietly, green eyes flickering over the blonde's drawn features with kind concern.

"I'm sorry this all happened the way it did... I guess there was never going to be a perfect way... But... I know you said you don't want to talk about it. I'm just so glad you're okay... When Ruby came to tell me about what Rumple-... Gold... Did to you... We'll make him pay for it, Emma, I promise you! Kidnapping you like that! I mean, I guess whatever he did must have broken the curse, but if he _hurt_ you, I-"

"-It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't _matter_?! Of course it does! Emma... Did he? _Did_ he hurt you?!"

"I'm fine now. Regina fixed it."

"...Regina... She found you?"

"Yes."

"And she... She didn't... She didn't try to hurt you when she found out who you were? When the curse broke? She-"

"-She knew. I think she _always_ knew... She helped break the curse... She... She helped _me._ "

"...I see. Well... I can understand why you'd think that, but... I don't... I don't think... I mean... I doubt she really _did_ help break the curse, Emma... Maybe she told you that... I know she kind of had you thinking-"

"-She didn't have me _thinking_ anything. The curse broke when I kissed her."

"It broke when you... But... The only magic strong enough to... Emma... What...?"

"It doesn't matter. She... I don't know."

 _She's the reason why this is all so awkward now. The reason I feel like a stranger to parents that would have loved me. Would have wanted me. It's her fault. Her fault, but I just want to know why? What could you have done to her to make it all worth this? Why_ this _? Why did it all come to this?_

"I think I'm going to go to bed..."

The schoolteacher opens her mouth to argue, but the blonde is already making her way from the sofa, stopping by the large armchair where Henry sits curled up and asleep to place a kiss on the boy's forehead, before disappearing up the stairs without a second glance.

Snow doesn't need to see her expression to read the emotion behind the way the Sheriff's shoulders droop as she drags her feet behind her.

_This isn't how it was supposed to be._

* * *

Regina sits rigidly on the silken sheets of her bed, her eyes tired and bloodshot and her lips a smudged mess of ghostly scarlet. Her attention falls repeatedly on the maroon streaks that stain her door, but she can't quite bring herself to remove them.

_I'm so sorry, Emma. I'm so, so sorry._

She sighs. She bares no remorse for the pain inflicted by her actions upon the hateful young woman and her prince that have acted as the bane to her existence for so long, but she is positive now that if she had known who that tiny, fair-headed babe would grow up to become, her love for the blonde would have outweighed her hate for her mother.

_It wouldn't have been the same. Without the curse... You would have never known Emma the way you do now..._

She shakes her head as she comes to the curious realization that such a thing doesn't matter. She would do anything to grant the younger woman her happiness, and if it would have meant never knowing the blonde herself... It would have been worth it...

Hindsight is a beautiful thing. But with all beauty, comes pain.

_If I could take it all back, I-_

She flinches, her eyes bright as she listens intently to the silence that cloaks her bedroom, sure she has heard a noise from downstairs. Brow furrowing as she hears it again, she rises from her bed slowly to stalk over to the window, seeking out the source of the heavy knocking that comes from below.

* * *

Tossing restlessly in bed, the blonde groans as her phone vibrates incessantly. Pulling back the covers and peering about the room that glows with the pale light of approaching dawn, she spots her cell lying forlorn at the foot of the bed and reaches for it with a frown. Staring at the name that flashes across the small screen with gritted teeth, she briefly entertains the idea of simply switching the device off and shutting it away before flipping it open warily.

"...Regina?"

"Emm-... Sheriff... I think I may require your services."

"... I'm on my way."

Closing her phone swiftly, she rolls out of bed and pulls on a pair of old jeans and a sweatshirt; pulling the hood up to cast her face into shadow and slipping out of the room quietly, shooting a glance toward Henry as he sleeps in the armchair before letting herself out of the apartment.

_Please be okay. Just... Please be okay._


	75. Chapter 75

The blonde suffers a feeling of intense doubt following her decision to stop by the Station before heading to the Mayor's house- swapping her bug for the cruiser- praying such actions haven't cost her too much time.

"It'd be just like you to fuck this up... After she came through for you the way she did..."

_Oh for fuck's sake, can the self-pity party wait until later, Swan?_

She laughs out loud at this- wondering momentarily if perhaps she really _is_  losing it just a little- imagining that if ever there was a time for her seemingly instinctual depreciation of self- her pessimistic view on things- it would be now.

Racing in through the gates to the luxurious drive, she plays the piercing notes of the siren as she swerves to a halt outside the stone steps at which a group of about seven or eight are clustered with fists pounding at the door.

"Hey!"

She assesses the damage quickly, and is relieved to see that, while the angry citizens who stand valiantly against their Queen on the doorstep create a terrifying racket, their rage seems to have been channeled primarily into infuriated cries and the incessant pounding of fists. The only  _real_  sign of vandalism is an empty crater where once there was a window to the side of the door, but the smashed pane is high, and she imagines it would be almost impossible to enter the house through the jagged opening.

She isn't willing to take any chances.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

The furious threats abate, as one by one the angered citizens turn to face her, the blonde possessing more authority than she should in her hooded sweatshirt, but the heavy material that casts her face into shadow leaves just the angry flash of her teeth, and the long hair that tumbles down over her chest leaves them in no doubt as to who stands before them.

"My dear, she is the Queen! And here in this land, she shall not ruin us the way she did before! She must be punished for her sins! She must be destroyed!"

"Have you lost your fucking minds!?"

The blonde growls at the squat little woman who speaks up with such hateful conviction. She recognizes the majority of the furious mob by face alone, having seen them around and about but never exchanging words. Miss Ginger she knows well however, and she decides the small woman is just as irksome as whoever the fuck she is now as she was before the breaking of the curse.

_Turns out even magic can't make shit shine._

"Step away, all of you, you're trespassing..."

"She's the Queen!"

"And  _I'm_  the Sheriff!"

"My poor love, you seem frightfully confused. We have no _use_  for you here, things have changed! She deserves to suffer what she has coming to her... We don't need a  _Sheriff_..."

The small woman laughs and shakes her head as several of the men behind her nod in agreement. Stalking up the steps slowly until she stands directly before the scowling redhead, Emma looks down at her with glittering eyes that flicker from the shadows of her hood; the height advantage she has over the squat woman allowing her to lean into the other's face.

"You know who I am... All of you... You may not need a Sheriff, but you sure as hell needed a Saviour. Now  _get out_. This isn't your fight."

Her voice is low, and she's surprised by how calm she has managed to keep her tone, but the effect works in her favor; uncomfortable glances shared between those stood with their fists still raised on the doorstep, before one by one the angered citizens slink off towards the gates.

It is unwise to anger the Queen. But it is unwise also to go against royalty.

Standing with her arms crossed over her chest, the Sheriff watches stonily as the last of the small mob-  _Miss Ginger, of_ course _it would be that jumped up little shit-_ make their way up the generous driveway and out into the street.

_They actually listened to me..._

Ducking back into the cruiser, she drives slowly up to the gates before pulling to a stop at an angle, blocking the driveway neatly. She decides it was worth the detour to the Station after all, hoping the cruiser will demand a little more respect than her own car.

_You say that now... What if it had cost her her safety?_

"Oh shut up! I'm doing my best here!"

_Not good enough._

"Stop it!"

She growls angrily, supposing she must look quite mad standing around muttering to herself in the pink glow of dawn. Looking up at the mansion she has come to know so painfully well, she shoves her hands into her pockets and marches back up the drive, mounting the stone steps slowly before rapping her fist against the door.

"Regina?"

She receives no answer but she hastily consoles herself with the thought that this is hardly surprising; what with the furious knocking on the smartly painted wood not five minutes ago. Slipping aside the ornate covering that falls over the keyhole, the blonde yells through the gap in the wood, feeling ever so slightly foolish.

"Come on, it's just me!"

She cocks her head to the side and listens, pulling her lip between her teeth and nibbling nervously. The hallway lies cloaked in darkness, much like the rest of the house from what she can see, and she finds she is suddenly a little less bold with her declaration as to the brunette's sure safety than she was upon her arrival. Glancing up at the smashed pane to her side she muses that if one were to truly try and wriggle through, it might just be possible.

Jumping down from the steps and pulling herself up onto the narrow ledge, the bottom of the jagged gap is in line with her hips, and she supposes if she could maneuver herself with a little care, she may just be able to slip though.

Possibly.

Doubtfully.

"Well, nobody ever got anywhere without trying..."

She hisses as an angry vertical shard catches her elbow, before knocking the dangerous tooth of glass out of the way with her sleeve-covered fist. Pulling herself up with shaking arms, she is halfway through when the front door opens, causing her to cry out and barely keep herself from tumbling back down into the flowerbeds.

"Miss Swan... What on earth are you doing?"

The Sheriff lowers herself back down to balance on the window ledge, casting a look over at the Mayor who stands with her silk robe pulled tightly around her waist and her arms crossed over her chest.

"What the hell does it  _look_  like I'm doing? Why didn't you answer the door?"

"... Perhaps I fear death threats showered upon me through my keyhole by an angry mob more than you do... Or perhaps, just perhaps, I was afraid our dear friend Rumplestiltiskin was up to no good and had taken on your sweet, dulcet tones in an attempt to lure me downstairs..."

"My sweet... T-taken on my voice? Well... How do you know I'm not him now?"

"Because, you're the  _only_  person I know that would be idiotic enough to try and crawl through my window, dear."

She offers the Sheriff a small smile and the younger woman rolls her eyes, huffing irritably.

"Yeah, well... I'm the fucking Sheriff! It's my  _job_  to make sure everyone's alright..."

"Oh, you're just a regular knight in shining armor, Miss Swan."

The blonde sighs in frustration, clambering down from the ledge with minimal grace before shoving her hands into her pockets and regarding the Queen awkwardly. The darker woman's trademark sultry tone does little to hide the strained weariness in her eyes, and the Sheriff's expression softens a little at the nervous pull to scarlet lips that the brunette strives to hide with a too-smug smile.

"Are you okay?"

"...I've been better..."

"I meant... I meant because of what happened just now."

"I see... Yes... Yes, in that respect I'm fine... A little perturbed to have my rest disturbed in such a callous fashion, but physically I'm no worse for wear."

"Um... Well, that's good..."

"I wish the same could be said for yourself..."

"Huh?"

"Your elbow; you're bleeding... Honestly, dear, are you  _incapable_ of staying in one piece?"

"Oh... It's nothing, it's just a scratch."

"Hmm. I think I'll be the judge of that..."

The Mayor reaches out for the blonde's arm, only to find the younger woman scowling at her in confusion. Rolling her eyes, she mutters irritably.

"Just let me make sure you're fit to go, dear..."

"Regina, please... I'm fine..."

"I'm sure you are, Miss Swan... But I dread to think of the germs that may plague that old glass... Please... I promise you... No doors will keep you captured... I merely wish to check over your injuries before you leave me."

Emma frowns, rolling back the soft fabric of her sweater.

"Seriously, it's nothing..."

The brunette shakes her head, taking hold of the younger woman's arm gently and inspecting the thin laceration that lines her forearm. She lifts her hand to heal the blonde but the Sheriff pulls away with a grimace.

"No... No more magic."

"But, I...Very well."

Shrugging in defeat, the Queen ushers the blonde through the front door and into her kitchen, growling irritably at the latter's protests.

"Emma... Just let me do this for you... "

Not waiting for an answer, she grabs the first aid kit from above the sink and sits the blonde down on one of the stools that line her kitchen island and maneuvers the Sheriff's arm out in front of her. The younger woman is correct in in her declaration that nothing is amiss; the cut just below her elbow shallow and artificial, but still the brunette presses an antiseptic wipe to the reddened flesh gently, watching the blonde, hawklike, from the corner of her eye.

"It's okay, Regina..."

"... I can see that... I needed to make sure..."

"Yeah... Well..."

"Emma... I... I can't do this. I... Will you allow me a chance to explain? Just one day... That's all I'm asking... Give me one day to explain to you why I did the things I did..."

"Regina, I could give you twenty four hours, I could give you twenty four _years_... I still don't see how you could convince me you were in the right to do what you did..."

"...I'm not even going to _attempt_  to argue I was in the  _right_ , dear... I just want to explain why things happened the way they did... I'm not asking for understanding, Emma... I'm praying for  _forgiveness_... I... I can't let you go... Please.. Just one day... Haven't I earned that much from you?"

"...I..."

"Emma. I love you."

"And I  _want_  to love you, too!... I  _do_  love you... But, I... Regina... I've been screwed over too many times to-"

"-You love me. That's all that matters... And I refuse to let that change. Come, I'd like to go upstairs... I wish to show you something..."


	76. Chapter 76

Regina makes her way upstairs without looking back. She has enough faith in the blonde to suspect the younger woman will follow her sooner or later, and her hopes are rewarded when she makes out the soft thud of the Sheriff's boots behind her. Slipping into her bedroom, she cringes as she hears Emma hesitate outside, but she is blessed with another small favour as, finally, the blonde appears in the doorway, a pale hand holding back her long hair fretfully and an expression of disquiet crossing her face.

"Regina... I don't think this is exactly appropriate..."

"All I want from you is your attention, Emma... You can... You can sit wherever you like..."

Such a statement would seem odd under any other circumstance, but the Sheriff deciphers the true meaning to the Mayor's words; she will not be touched, will not be pestered, she is free to leave if she wishes and she may speak openly. Sighing, the blonde perches awkwardly at the foot of the king-sized bed, green eyes regarding the Queen balefully as the latter gathers the old, weathered book she has come to know so well from her dresser and carries it over. Clearing her throat, Regina gestures pointedly at the empty space beside the blonde and the younger woman bites her lip before nodding wearily.

"I've read that thing cover to cover, Regina... I don't know what you-"

"-I haven't. I read parts of it- the parts about Gold- when you went missing... I hoped it would give me a clue as to where and why he had taken you... Some of those stories intermingled with mine... My own stories... My own life... Do you know how curious that is, dear? To read about yourself as though you are nothing more than a character playing out some higher power's fancies? I believe now that there is a touch of truth to that notion. I believe Rumplestiltskin to have been in control of much more than I'd originally conceived... But... Understand that I am not telling you so in an attempt to shift the blame. I'm telling you because... Well, I've never _had_ anyone to talk to about such things... About my feelings and about my reasonings... Whether they are moral or _good_ I know not. In fact, I imagine a great deal of what I have done is the very _opposite_ of 'good'... I'm not going to sit here and beg you to absolve me of the wrong I have done to the scum that inhabits this town... There are things I would take back- that I would change- if I knew then what I know now, but this isn't about the curse... This is about you and me... I would lay down my life for you should the necessity arise, and I know you well enough to be sure you'd do the same for me. I love you, but I know very little _about_ you, and you know even _less_ about me.

I know what little I _have_ managed to find out by digging into legal documents pertaining to your past. _You_ know only what you've read on these pages... And perhaps that's the problem, dear. Perhaps there is something to be said for learning of the hard truths from the lips of their source. I'm not going to get down on my knees for you, Emma. I've pleaded for forgiveness once, and I don't plan on doing it again... You'll either grant it or you won't. I've asked you up here because I want to tell you a story. _My_ story. Told _my_ way."

Regarding the brunette somberly, Emma gives her a slow nod, waiting for her to continue as her eyes fall upon the delicate text that dances across the page.

"Once upon a time... There was a young girl who was terribly unhappy. She had a mother and a father that loved her very much, but her mother was an overbearing woman, cruel and selfish, while her father was weak and victim to his wife's sharp tongue. It was no secret to the young girl that her parents were not a couple brought together by love, but rather by the thirst for power her mother seemed unable to sate.

As time went on, the girl grew closer to her father, for he was a kind man... Filled with the goodness so absent in her mother... They formed a silent allegiance; the two of them versus the girl's mother whose power grew day by day, year by year, until she was blinded by it, and she could think of nothing else. The girl's mother would use her power- her magic- as a form of reprimand; leaving the young girl so terrified at the mere _thought_ of punishment that not a word was spoken out of turn. Not a toe was placed out of line.

But the girl did have _one_ love in her life that kept her going... She loved to ride... And with her love for riding, she encountered a love for the boy who taught her; the Stable Boy. It was a simple love at first- that of a lonely young girl discovering that the world _could_ be kind and offer her a friend- but it soon grew into more, as these things do, and her love became a physical emotion that at times felt as though it would consume her alive.

She kept her love for the Stable Boy a well guarded secret, and it was this, perhaps, that kept her sane as her mother berated her daily over how her inadequacy was keeping her from finding a suitable husband... A man of stature... A man of royalty. She would listen to her mother's harsh words, and sometimes she would cry, other times she would not, but she would know deep down that once she had endured such depreciating remarks, her Stable Boy would be there to welcome her and love her with open arms.

Until she met Snow White.

The young princess was traveling with her father- a King on the lookout for a new Queen to replace young Snow's mother who had fallen mysteriously ill not long before- when the steed on which she had been mounted went wild and took off with the child screaming upon its back. _Our_ girl was out in the fields with her forbidden love, and she had the misfortune to take heed of the princess's pleas for help. She saved the young child, thinking nothing of it but that it was a wondrous thing that she should have been out at that exact time... How _fortuitous_ for the weeping princess.

A day later, the King came knocking on the young woman's door, bearing an ocean of gratitude along with a ring. He requested the girl's hand in marriage- thinking such a selfless creature would make a fine mother for his precious daughter, Snow- and the girl's own mother accepted on her behalf without so much as a glance in her daughter's direction.

The girl was terrified; not wishing to marry the King who was so many years her elder, and not wishing to forsake her true love for the Stable Boy. Distraught, she wept her woes to her beloved and he took her in his arms the way she adored- the way that made her feel safe- and he placed a kiss upon her lips that was overseen by the young princess who had strayed out into the farmland.

The girl chased down the princess, and she cried and she begged and she pleaded. She implored the child not to speak of what she had seen, explaining that above all else, her mother must never know.

But Snow White told the girl's mother. She broke the promise she had vowed to uphold.

Sensing turbulence ahead, the girl and the Stable Boy decided to make a run for it... But it was too late. Taking heed of what the young princess had divulged to her, the girl's mother found her daughter and the one she loved in the stable. The girl pleaded with her mother to understand... To allow her just this _one_ thing...

But her mother ripped out the boy's heart and crushed it into dust.

After that, the girl felt a numbness that stayed with her for a long time. She married the King, watching as he doted on the young girl who had caused her life to fall to ruin... Forever feeling as though she was an outsider within her own skin. Any love, any _goodness_ the girl may have once possessed turned slowly to hate.

A hate for the world. A hate for her people... But most of all; a hate for the girl responsible for her situation.

A hate for Snow White.

As the years went by and the young princess grew up to become a woman, the two of them fought bitterly. The girl- now being Queen- did all in her power to make young Snow feel the pain and heartache she herself had suffered. She did all that she could to keep the princess away from the young man with which she had become infatuated, threatening him and battling her. Unable to stand the pain of failing repeatedly to crush the younger woman, she came to the decision to eliminate her altogether; poisoning an apple and cursing the princess to an endless sleep.

Yet _still_ Snow thwarted her.

 _Still_ the fair young maiden- so loved by all around her- was saved by her true love with nothing more than a simple kiss.

It was too much for the Queen. She fell to the lowest of points; seeking aid from a man with whom deals were said to come at an immeasurable price.

Such a warning fell on deaf ears, for she was ruined. Destroyed. There was nothing left to lose.

The man- the monster- spoke to her of a curse, and she worked hard to come into its possession, for it promised to ruin those who had continually bested her.

At first, she was unsuccessful; sacrificing her prized steed to perform the darkest of magic, but such a loss was not enough. The price was much higher.

So she sacrificed her father.

She shed a great many tears for what she had done, and to this day, she sheds a great many more, but the sad truth is that such a loss had seemed worth it in her darkest hours.

With her price paid... She was able to preform the most despicable of curses the land had ever seen, and she took great pleasure in visiting the princess and her betrothed on their wedding day and warning them of the doom that was soon to come.

Discovering the princess to be with child, the Queen set out to slay the babe, following word of a prophecy wherein the princess's daughter would act as a Saviour... Where she would be the Hope.

Once again, the Queen was bested; the child surviving and escaping to another realm.

Such a thing seemed of little consequence however, when finally- after all of the times she had failed- the Queen _succeeded_. She _won_.

She tore up that hateful world which had treated her so cruelly and created a _new_ story. A story in which things would finally go her way... Such a story was never written down, and perhaps that is for the best...

The Queen was elated at first, thinking herself the only one privy to the memories of that other world. She watched on hungrily as those that had bested her, displeased her, hated her, went about their sad, sorry little lives like the bovine creatures she knew them to be.

Such pleasure soon gave way to boredom, however... Boredom at having the entire town brainwashed beneath her thumb.

So she wished for a child, and a couple of weeks later, she adopted a young boy, and things were better for her then than they had ever been in her whole life.

But, eventually... The boy grew distant from her... Poisoned by a book bestowed upon him by the woman who had destroyed the Queen's life in that other land. The boy began to speak of things which he had no business knowing about, and his love for the Queen turned into something else... Something that hurt her in a way she didn't know it was possible to hurt... And, when she thought she was in just about the greatest amount of pain she could bare without surely going crazy... The boy ran away... And he found his 'real' mother.

And it turned out the Queen was able to hurt just that little bit more than she had believed possible.

She hated the woman the boy bought back with him; a pretty thing but possessing an acidic tongue and the inability to comprehend rules and boundaries. She strived endlessly to rid herself of the newcomer, her mind churning hatefully as little by little she began to notice things about the woman her son seemed to desperate to call mother.

Unsettling things.

Time started again, and it started fast, and the woman the Queen looked to with such hatred proved herself to be a much greater force to be reckoned with than first anticipated.

Before long... The Queen was almost _sure_ as to the identity of the young woman.

This knowledge only served to make her desperate to rid herself of her unwelcome guest all the more, but, when she came across the young woman battling her way through a storm, she took a brief moment's leave of her senses and invited her into the comfort of her home.

The woman was irritating, and she was bothersome, but she was also beautiful, as the Queen began to learn as time went on. Slowly, hate turned into a curious sort of companionship, which eventually became friendship- although both women were _far_ too stubborn to admit to such a thing- and finally... It became love.

... And it is _because_ of the Queen's love for the woman, that when she thought she had been betrayed- finding a series of documents suggesting that her lover had gone behind her back to take custody of the boy- that she made a terrible mistake... She sought out a man whom she had no business calling upon, but alas, he was a soul so desperate that he had no choice but to adhere to her wishes... She harnessed a small amount of magic and brought it into this realm... Magic in the form of a poisoned apple... She... Sh-she gifted the woman with the tainted fruit in the form of a pie, unable to bear the pain of the other's hateful deception...

The Queen soon learned of her mistake in thinking the young woman guilty... But by then it was too late, and she found her lying as though dead on the floor, and she realized that no matter how much pain one has suffered in their lifetime, there can _always_ be a hurt that is worse than anything endured before... She wept over the young woman bitterly, placing a kiss on her lips as she reached the despicable realisation of the truth... And the woman awoke... Because the Queen's love was true... But for her to have done such a thing... To have harmed the young woman in such a way... It weighed on the Queen heavily, and she began to unravel as guilt threatened to consume her whole and her heart began to ache as though it were a rotting thing.

Then, when she finally reached her worst, the young woman came through at her best... The Queen tried to tell her friend what she had done... But her... Her f-friend explained to her that she was h-happy... That she didn't want to _know_ because she was _happy_...

That the _Queen_ made her happy...

Only, of course, she didn't _know_ that her companion was the Queen...

The Evil Queen...

And now, perhaps, that unhappy little girl who has done so much wrong in her life to try and compensate for the ill-hand she believed she had been dealt has finally played all of her winning cards... Maybe this is the wrong from which there is no redemption..."

A heavy silence falls over them as the brunette finishes all that she has to say, the book sitting untouched on her lap beneath her folded hands. She sniffs as salted tears trickle unchecked from sooty lashes and falls lightly backwards onto the bed; exhausted. She is surprised when she feels the mattress dip a little to her side, the blonde moving to lie stiffly next to her. She takes a chance and reaches for the younger woman's hand, and while she is not rewarded with the responding squeeze she'd hoped for, the Sheriff doesn't pull her hand _away_ either.

"...I did it with a pair of scissors."

"...Wh-what?"

"My scar. I did it with a pair of scissors. I was nineteen and I needed money, and a friend of a friend told me he could get me a job dancing at this club opposite the gas station if I wanted it. I _didn't_ want it, but I didn't want to end up kicked out of the apartment I was crashing at more.

So I danced.

I never really thought I was pretty when I was younger, despite other people telling me different. If I was pretty, then why didn't anyone _want_ me? In my own eyes, I was just kind of awkward and I didn't like the shape of my face. It was nothing overwhelming, nothing that took up a great deal of space in my mind. I just always kind of wanted to look different... So that people would look at me and think- _truly_ think- I was pretty. So that they might want me.

They looked at me when I danced.

And you know something? When they looked at me when I danced, I realized that I never wanted anyone to look at me like that again. I realised I didn't want to be pretty after all...

Not if that was the way people would look at me...

So I marked myself. It was stupid really, and with the amount of whisky I drank that night I'm lucky that scar is _all_ that I got... But it worked.

People don't look at me that way anymore."

"... Have you ever told anyone that before?"

"No...Why?"

"Because someone needs to tell you just how stupid you really are... You're beautiful, Emma."

"Thank you."

"Thank you for telling me..."

"... What I did, it was stupid. A whole _tonne_ of stuff I've done is stupid... But I've never done anything as bad as what you did."

"...I-"

"- _But,_ for all of the shitty things I _have_ done... Do you know what I have to defend myself with? I can argue that I was drunk, that I was poor, that I didn't know any better, that it was a side-effect of my upbringing... Fair arguments... But all in all, what they boil down to, is I did the bad things I've done because it was what suited me best at the time. _You_ did what was best for you, too... Only... You had your _own_ reasons... I guess what I'm _trying_ to say is... The way I see it, I have two options right now: I can tell you that you've done terrible things and I can walk out that door and never speak to you again... Or, I can try to get my head around the fact that you've done terrible things in the past because you were in a terrible _place_..."

Regina turns to study the blonde; her heart pounding as she replays the Sheriff's wording over and over in her mind.

_I can try to get my head around it._

_I can try._

_I will try._

_Oh god, please._

Struggling for something to say and unable to take the silence that threatens to drive her mad, the brunette pushes herself cautiously up onto her elbow and looks down into pensive green eyes. She moves slowly- crucially aware of just how much hangs in the balance- and brushes her lips against the younger woman's, running her hand gently up under the Sheriff's shirt and tracing the lines of the scar she knows so well beneath. Closing her eyes and deepening her kiss, she rolls onto the blonde, keeping her pinned beneath her slim frame and sighing as pale hands find hers.

"I... I'm going to put my neck on the line and hope you're entertaining the second of your two options?"

"Well... The benefits _do_ outweigh the risks."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Hot sex mostly..."

The brunette's eyes widen comically and she allows herself a timid smirk that widens salaciously as the blonde grins up at her, leaning back down and capturing the younger woman's lips with new passion.


	77. Chapter 77

For the longest time the brunette refrains from making a sound; simply toying with pale curls as she brushes her lips softly against the Sheriff's. The blonde's skin hosts a delicate tang of salted iron and it occurs to the Mayor that despite a quick change of clothes, Emma remains in much the same state as when she'd fled the mansion during the early hours of the morning.

In much the same state as when the imp had held her captive.

She frowns, pulling back so that she can observe the younger woman with troubled eyes, before leaning forward and placing an uncharacteristically gentle kiss at the Sheriff's brow. She sighs as pale arms encircle her waist tightly and speaks into tangled tresses.

"I was so worried about you..."

Her words are met with silence and she swiftly reprimands herself for speaking aloud. She is crucially aware of the fact that neither of them know exactly what to say, and she is terrified of breaking the fragile sweetness that now lingers between them. As if sensing her sudden tension, the blonde plays her own fingers over luxurious silk, nipping at the exposed flesh of the Mayor's throat gently, causing the latter to let out a small moan.

Regina complies gratefully as strong thighs tighten around her hips and the Sheriff flips them easily so that she lies on her back beneath a curtain of cornsilk curls; Emma's eyes dark as her long hair casts her face into shadow.

The blonde works the buttons to the Mayor's shirt slowly, her eyes cast down to the task at hand while she captures her bottom lip between her teeth. Regina watches her silently, drinking in lustful eyes, slim fingers and dirty cheeks. Faint tear-tracks remain curiously visible- marring enviably high bones- and she runs a hand gently over a denim clad thigh. Her vision becomes obscured with the Sheriff unclasps the last of the small buttons and leans forward to taste the flesh revealed beneath.

The Mayor arches her back a little, using her body rather than her words to convey what she needs, and she is swiftly sated as delicate lace is shoved roughly upwards to be replaced by warm lips. She plays her hands over the soft cotton of the blonde's rather boyish hoody affectionately, relishing the strength that emanates from the lean muscle beneath her fingertips as she muses on the way Emma's go-to response when things get a little stressful is to adopt this hungrier, darker persona.

Purely sexual.

She finds she is at peace with this now; gradually having come to realise that the younger woman's lustful approach to what she herself would have wished was a more intimate moment is no reflection on _her_ , but simply one on the Sheriff's coping mechanisms. She is momentarily cruelly reminded of the way Emma had taken her in the jail cell upon recovering from the hateful effects of that tainted apple but is able to push this aside now.

Emma _knows_.

Emma knows _everything_.

 _And she may not be happy about it, may not be happy at_ all _, but she's_ here _. She stayed._

The brunette sniffs lightly as she realizes that, just as the younger woman had doubted if she was worth being found, she herself has never quite believed she was worth _staying_ for.

_I was worth it. It's just nobody saw that._

But isn't that sort of the same thing?

The Sheriff stills as she senses the Mayor's silent sob, desisting with the wet trail she creates down the valley between the brunette's breasts hesitantly. Letting out a low sigh, she turns her head to the side, resting her cheek on bare flesh and closing her eyes as slender arms rest firmly around her. She strokes a finger lightly over the delicate ripple of the darker woman's ribs, adopting a small smile as a light tremor reminds her of Regina's ticklish side. Burying her face back into velvety skin, she places a hard, decidedly wet kiss just above the Mayor's heart; the gesture purposefully exaggerated and audible.

And just like that, as they both descend into light, amiable laughter, each woman comes to the beautiful realization that it might just be possible for things to be okay between them.

Glancing down at Emma as the younger woman remains face down between her breasts, Regina rolls her eyes and prods at a narrow shoulder playfully, smiling as the Sheriff looks up at her, before adopting a tone of arrogance and plucking at soft cotton.

"Is this even a _woman's_ sweatshirt?"

"Dunno-"

A waterfall of curls as the blonde pushes herself up and pulls it over her head swiftly, the Mayor's hands finding her bare stomach instinctively.

"-Want to check the label?"

Regina shakes her head; dark coals following the course of the faded material as the Sheriff sends it flying across the room. Raising an eyebrow and smirking back up at her, the brunette regards the younger woman appreciatively as the latter looks down at her with shy curiosity.

"How does it work?"

"How does what work?"

"... Magic?"

The blonde's tone is low, and her face is carefully free from any expression save for mild interest. The brunette swallows, not sure how best to approach the matter.

"Well... What would you like to know, dear?"

"Can you... Will you show me?"

Studying Emma levelly as the younger woman continues to captivate her with curious green eyes, the Mayor nods slowly, holding her hand up deliberately between them. She allows a mild tremor of force to flow up through her fingers; exuding a delicate purple haze and a subtle heat. Keeping her eyes trained on Emma, she moves her glowing hand so that it hovers just shy of the blonde's bare stomach. With her blood thrumming loudly in her ears, she sees rather than hears the small noise of apprehension that comes from the woman above her, but the Sheriff doesn't flinch, and so she slowly closes the distance and presses her fingers lightly against soft flesh.

Emma's eyes widen at this new contact, but amongst the mixture of emotions she feels, fear is not one of them, and while she detests such Freudian navel gazing- _I'm just me, just Emma, who gives a flying shit?_ \- she can't help but acknowledge the significance in this. On cue, Regina speaks quietly, the curious warmth from her hand- a heat that shouldn't be possible- thrumming soothingly against taut muscle in a way that the blonde finds inexplicably pleasant.

"This won't hurt."

"I know."

The Sheriff's voice is barely a whisper as she continues to study the hand which warms her skin with wide-eyed wonder, and Regina nods as though in agreement. Removing her fingers, the flesh below the younger woman's navel glows a warm red as though sunburnt, but the brunette knows this is merely a reaction to the heat bestowed on fair skin rather than any cause for concern. Glancing up at the blonde quickly, she wets her bottom lip before returning her attention to the hand that hovers between them.

The small flick she gives of her wrist is slower- carrying less finesse- than she is capable of, but she is reluctant to make any fast movements in fear of scaring the Sheriff. She imagines Emma's clear trust will keep her in place, but she has no wish to give the younger woman any cause for alarm whether she responds visibly or not.

"Oh..."

Regina bites back a smile at the childish squeak from above as her unseen ministrations have the clasp of the blonde's jeans coming swiftly undone. She slows her hand even more as she watches- along with the trembling Sheriff- as the zipper to Emma's Levi's drags slowly downwards to reveal gray cotton.

"Fuck..."

The Sheriff captures her gaze with stunned green eyes, her face pale but her breathing noticeably heavier. The brunette smirks, quelling the power that thrums from her fingers and reaching around with both hands to cup pert denim amiably, threading her thumbs through the blonde's belt loops and tugging at the coarse material gently.

"Is that a request?"

Emma snaps out of her bewildered daze abruptly, eyes flickering feverishly over the Mayor's delicate features before letting out a nervous laugh. She pushes herself up off the brunette swiftly, standing precariously over the darker woman as she balances on the soft mattress and shimmies out of her jeans; careful not to stumble and fall on top of the brunette.

Regina watches in amusement, stabilising the younger woman with a hand flashing up to steady a skinny hip, before the Sheriff lowers herself back down cautiously to straddle slender thighs. She raises her own hand and flicks her wrist wildly, adopting a playful grin as the older woman raises an eyebrow in bemusement.

"I was just checking."

Emma confides lightly, before shrugging and attacking the delicate catch to the Mayor's dress pants manually. Regina shakes her head in mock despair, swiftly unclasping the blonde's simple, black bra as the latter tugs at the soft linen that conceals her prize. She lifts her hips obligingly, allowing herself a small, secretive smile as she watches the Sheriff take the time to fold expensive fabric carefully and lean over to place the small bundle beside the bed.

Taking advantage of the blonde's position, Regina snakes her hand beneath a slender thigh; flipping the younger woman onto her back on the expansive bed and pinning her down once more while her teeth graze pale flesh deliberately. She catches a momentary glimpse of smeared scarlet beneath Sheriff's breast and her eyes flicker to the white lines that encircle slim wrists like curious bracelets. She is given little time to dwell on such things however, as a devious hand slips between them and slides sweetly beneath the delicate lace of her underwear to find her wanting wetness.

She reciprocates gladly, pulling aside scant cotton while nipping cruelly at the sharp line of the blonde's jaw, as Emma deepens her ministrations and hisses encouragingly next to her ear. As she climbs ever higher and ever closer to the edge of pure pleasure, she throws caution to the wind and allows just a little of the curious heat to thrum through her busy fingers, moving swiftly to swallow the Sheriff's cry of surprise as the younger woman comes immediately undone beneath her.

Chuckling huskily, the brunette growls as she is clumsily flipped onto her back by the shaking blonde as the Sheriff takes her over the edge; Emma's legs trembling ever so slightly as she clambers breathlessly on top, her eyes deep pools of emerald as she watches the Mayor squeeze her own eyes shut and bite her lip as she goes over. Collapsing onto the darker woman with a light chuckle at the winded gasp this garners her, the blonde lies with her head rested within the hollow of the brunette's shoulder as they struggle to regulate their breathing. Closing her eyes and resting a hand gently on the soft flesh of the Mayor's stomach she sighs quietly.

"I love you."

Regina smiles, her own eyes closed in exhaustion as she brings her arms gently around to encircle the Sheriff; wishing they could remain lying this way, but knowing that Emma needs sleep- bathing wouldn't go amiss either- and not quite hopeful enough to believe the blonde the sort for slumbering in another's arms. Speaking into tangled curls softly, she runs a finger gently down the length of the younger woman's spine, causing the Sheriff to twitch amusingly.

"And I you, which is why I hope you wont take it to heart when I insist you spend a good amount of time under the shower, before getting straight back into bed... You must be exhausted..."

"Oh look, it seems I've acquired a moth...er..."

"... It seems you have..."

The silence is more awkward than it is tense and Regina brushes the comment off swiftly.

"You need sleep... _I_ need sleep... As I'm sure Henry does too, but perhaps it is for the best that we sort a few things out between us while he slumbers peacefully in your mo-... Mary Margaret's care."

"...Sort things out between us _how_?"

The blonde tenses immediately in the Mayor's arms, and Regina sighs as she supposes that no matter what has transpired between the two of them, the subject of Henry will be one that may cause yet more discomfort. Deciding to go with what is- ironically- a less dangerous course of discussion, she plays with a stray curl of long hair absently-mindedly as she mutters sleepily into the crown of the younger woman's hair.

"Well, for one... How we plan on dealing with that despicable little imp..."


	78. Chapter 78

The brunette bends down to collect her son's book which had tumbled, forgotten, to the floor a few hours earlier following her plea for understanding from the blonde. She tests its weight in her hands pensively before looking up from the ornate cover to regard the Sheriff with a small smirk.

She had finally managed to force Emma into the shower as insisted, but had remained politely outside the door; perching on the bed with a tired yawn. She had reckoned on the blonde wishing to clean herself off scrupulously following her ordeal with the pawnbroker, and had been intuitively aware that the younger woman might not want an audience while doing so. She had begun to worry just a little as the minutes ticked steadily by, but eventually the pounding of the water and the hum of the pipes had ceased, before finally Emma had reappeared to lean in the doorway; skin flushed an angry red, her face curiously pale. Cracking a wide yawn, the blonde had rested her head against the doorframe until Regina had instructed her firmly to go back to bed.

Which is where she lies now, with her hair tangled and sodden, hiding her face, and her pale limbs drawn in close and clad in one of Henry's larger t-shirts. The Queen sighs. She had padded into her son's room- following Emma's raised eyebrow at the satin nightdress held out to her- and fetched the younger woman one of his tops without even thinking on it.

And now that she _is_ thinking on it... She finds she's... Well, she's _okay_ with it.

And logically, why _shouldn't_ she be? All of the poisonous bickering and proclamation from either side of "he's my son" had been the result of a fear that the boy should be taken away by the other.

She doesn't think Emma's going anywhere.

Not now. Not after all that's happened.

The subject of Henry still makes her uneasy, but she finds that rather than the hateful anger she had tried to banish when she had first started caring for the blonde, she feels only a quiet nervousness. Perching on the edge of the bed, she brushes damp curls from the blonde's face- rolling her eyes as she imagines the knotted nightmare that will result in the Sheriff having forgotten to pull a comb through them- and smirks when the younger woman doesn't react in the slightest to the intrusion; sound asleep.

* * *

Mary Margaret smiles as she ascends gently from sleep. It is a curious thing to have Charming slumbering beside her, but it is a beautiful thing more than anything else. She kisses his bare shoulder lightly before slipping quietly from beneath the sheets and padding out into the living room. Grinning as she spots Henry curled up in the overstuffed armchair- the hazy morning light illuminating his face as he sleeps soundly- she allows herself a moment's thought on just how blessed she is with how things have turned out.

She has her Charming, her daughter, her grandson.

She's finally won.

She resists the urge to climb up the iron steps to the blonde's bedroom, knowing that despite the change in herself, Emma remains much the same, and is neither a morning person nor one to appreciate the brimming wealth of emotions she wishes to bestow upon her. The notion appears moot anyway, as she spots a scrap of paper lying on the large dining room table.

_MM,_

_Regina called about trouble. Have gone to check it out._

_E x_

The schoolteacher frowns down at her housemate's note for what feels like a long time. She is pleasantly surprised that Emma has had the courtesy to leave her one at all; the Sheriff more often than not forgetting that she has a friend who worries for her.

_A mother that worries for her._

Not only has the blonde taken a second to leave her the scrap of messy scrawl, but she feels a sweet hum of happiness as her eyes flicker repeatedly back to the small _x_ that finishes the note. She can count the times Emma has ended her texts or messages with a kiss on one hand, and the fact that she should do so now, after the tension between them the previous evening, is not something the raven headed woman will shrug away lightly.

_My little girl..._

She thinks back to Emma grumbling at her for calling her this- the blonde stating moodily that she was of a larger size than the schoolteacher herself- and shakes her head in bemusement. It brings her back to the subject of the note however, and she feels a regretful twinge of disquiet low down in her stomach.

She hasn't quite gotten her head around Emma and Regina... Well... Yes... And wonders if she ever will. She feels what she knows is an immature sense of irritation at the blonde that she should pick the Queen of _all_ people to bond with. It suits the younger woman's contrary character beautifully, but she finds it hard to see the amusing side to such irony.

"Oh, Emma, why would you go over there alone now that she has magic..."

She scolds herself unhappily for such thoughts- and isn't it curious that it is in the Sheriff's lower tone she does this- taking a resigned seat at the table and fidgeting with the note with a sigh. Despite everything that has happened between Regina and herself- the Queen and herself- she knows she is wrong to think such a thing. The brunette saved her daughter. She had saved her and she had fretted over her and she had cried over her.

_And she had kissed her._

She had kissed her when she must have _known_ doing so might break the curse... And the curse could only have broken if the love was true on either side...

_Emma loves her._

No. Emma _loved_ her.

But what now? Now that the curse has broken?

She sighs, wondering what in the world David will make of all this when she tells him, but she is wise enough in herself to know that love is not something that ebbs and fades quite in time with the pleasures and hardships of life. Especially for one as stubborn as the Sheriff.

_She loves her._

And she supposes that's why she isn't halfway to the Queen's mansion right now with her heart bursting with fear for the blonde. She _does_ feel a small amount of dread, and she _does_ feel the uncomfortable urge to drag her daughter back home where she can keep an eye on her, but she chalks both of these notions down to maternal instinct.

_How curious, to be able to say that..._

Regina will not harm the blonde.

Which just begs the question of what 'trouble' has come to pass.

She imagines she has a good idea just what trouble the Evil Queen could find herself in.

* * *

There is something alarmingly, well, _homely_ about the situation the blonde finds herself in, and she struggles to swallow her cereal as her throat closes up with ingrained fear at the notion. Winning the battle with her Cheerios, she sucks on the tip of her spoon thoughtfully as she studies Regina across the table.

The brunette has her dark eyes cast down to her plate where she cuts up a honeydew melon into small, bite-sized pieces, her thick hair slightly mussed and looking disarmingly pretty in a simple cream blouse. Feeling the Sheriff's curious gaze upon her, she looks up and offer's the younger woman a small smile as she holds out an offering of sweet fruit.

"Thanks."

She nods, bringing a piece of melon to her own lips and tasting it pensively. They have said little to one another since the blonde had awoken and stated she was 'hungry enough to eat her own hands', but it has not been an uncomfortable silence, and her smile widens as she continues to study hellishly tousled hair and pale, bare features over her son's faded navy t-shirt.

"So, uh... Are we going to put Mr Gold in jail or something?"

"Is that what you want?"

"I... I don't know... I don't really know _what_ to think or what makes sense anymore. I mean, he's like a wizard, right? Won't he be able to get out?"

Regina smiles pleasantly, nodding in agreement as she feels a peculiar sense of amused adoration that the Sheriff should speak of their predicament with the little understanding she has of the ways of magic.

"Correct, dear."

"Then why..."

"Why cuff him to the bed?"

"Yeah."

"I suppose as a form of retribution. Rumplestiltskin is many things, but not one of those is dim-witted. The parallel of regaining consciousness in such a position and what he did to _you_ will not be lost on him. He is a dangerous man, dear, as you well know, but... I am dangerous too... And it's not just _me_ , don't forget."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, if it were a case of simply going up against me, then he would likely have little issue... But in doing so he goes up against you... And your mother and father... These people, Emma, the people of Storybrooke, I brought them here to... to suffer. They were your parent's people. They will take great issue with Gold if he were to go up against their royalty. He is powerful, but so is the anger of the masses."

"So... What do we do?"

"If you want him incarcerated then there are ways to do so... They aren't easy, and they are time consuming, so we may find ourselves in danger... Unfortunately, we can't just rid ourselves of him, you see. He is the Dark One."

"You mean kill him? We're not _killing_ him, Regina!"

"... No... But after what he did to you..."

"I... Look, help me understand something. Everyone I knew before the curse broke... They make _sense_ , you know?"

"I'm not following you."

"Like, Mary Margaret is Snow White. In all the stories of Snow White, she's kind and loved and charitable and stuff. Mary Margaret is like that too... And Granny, and Ruby, and David... They all kind of 'fit'. Will Gold?"

"How do you mean?"

"Will Rumplestiltskin possess the same qualities as Gold?"

"It is different with him, dear, for it appears the curse never affected him."

"Then they're the same! Just... Now he has his powers or whatever. But they're the same person."

"I suppose... Why?"

"Well... I kind of _liked_ Gold... And I think he liked _me_..."

"What on earth do you mean by _that_?"

The brunette's voice is hard and stony, and the Sheriff quickly goes on to try and explain herself.

"I mean that he and I had a mutual... Tolerance... For each other."

"I see... I presume this is _before_ he drugged you, kidnapped you and cuffed you pretty much _naked_ to a bed? Hmm?"

"Regina..."

"No, no, _continue_ , I'm dying to know where this is all _going_ , dear!"

"...Just for the record, I _asked_ him to take my dress off because I was fucking burning up and not thinking straight... My _point_ is... He went to all that trouble, because of this _deal_ he wanted me to fulfill."

"So?"

"So... I want to know what he wants."

"Why?"

"Because, whatever it is made him desperate enough to do what he did."

"Emma! He did what he did because he's a _monster_! He's the Dark One! He-"

"-I know! But what harm does it do to ask?"

"... You want to find Gold... _The Dark One_... And ask him how you could be of service!?"

"Yup."

"... _Un_ believable."

Regina shakes her head, spreading her fingers out before her in irritable despair as the Sheriff regards her awkwardly.

"I just... If we can nip this in the bud and give him what he wants then... Well... Maybe he'll leave us alone. And, Regina... I love you, and I'm sitting here with you eating a bowl of fucking Cheerios, despite _everything_ I know... Maybe Gold has some good in him too."

"Oh God..."

"I'm not being stupid!"

"No... You're being your _mother_."

"Oh, shut up, I-"

The blonde is saved from whatever punishment these words would garner her as a loud rap at the front door echoes into the kitchen. Furious latin eyes flash suddenly with fear and the Sheriff bites her lip as she pushes herself from the table warily.

"Are you going to get that?"

Emma whispers, having moved so that she stands close to the brunette; her expression grave and her jaw clenched. Regina regards her nervously for a second before sighing and walking slowly towards the door.

"I can't hide in the house forever."

"Do you want me to get it?"

"Miss Swan... You are clad in my son's t-shirt and a pair of my lace panties, I don't think you getting the door is going to be giving off the right message, do you?"

"I'm just trying to _help_."

"I know, dear... I know."

Coming to a halt a little way from the door, the brunette raises her voice and barks authoritatively.

"Who's there?"

Silence.

"Answer me."

The Queen places a hand warningly at the blonde's elbow as the latter moves to stand in front of her.

"Answer me, who's there!?"

"... It's me..."

Recognizing the voice instantly, the brunette shares a cautious glance with the Sheriff before moving towards the door.

"I suggest you go get your jeans, dear."


	79. Chapter 79

Regina waits for the Sheriff to slip from view before she pulls the door open apprehensively and regards her visitor warily.

"Can I... Can I come in?"

Snow's enquiry is rife with awkwardness, and she pulls her white, moleskin coat tightly to her wholesome frame. The brunette raises an eyebrow but says nothing, simply hesitating for what seems to the schoolteacher to be a cruelly long amount of time before stepping aside so that she can move past her.

The Queen opens her mouth to bark at the raven headed woman to remove her shoes, but the small flinch this action alone garners her has her shrugging irritably and stalking back towards the kitchen with a toss of her pretty, dark tresses.

Mary Margaret follows behind nervously, green eyes flickering about feverishly in search of the blonde. In search of comfort. They fall upon the half eaten bowl of cereal left abandoned opposite the seat the Mayor now reclaims and she feels an odd wave of discomfort deep down in her stomach.

There is just something so bizarre in the notion of her girl and the Queen sharing a domestic breakfast.

"Where's Emma?"

"Don't worry, I haven't done anything to her..."

Regina's tone is spiteful, but laced with a bitterness the schoolteacher doesn't miss. Sighing, Snow takes her daughter's recently vacated seat and plays her spoon through sodden Cheerios pensively.

"I know that, Regina..."

Glancing back up, she frowns as the brunette shrugs with an air of arrogance as though she couldn't care less either way when the younger woman knows that not to be true. She feels a small twinge of sadness within herself when faced with the fact that the blonde is clearly more comfortable here, with the Queen, then back home, and while she is understanding of the fact... It still hurts.

"... I know that."

"Then why are you here? What do you want?"

"What do I _want_? Regina... I have my daughter back! I finally have my little girl back, and instead of being able to enjoy it, to be able to hold her the way I should finally get to do, she's... Sh-she's in another woman's arms! What I want is a chance to speak to Emma about all this! About the curse... About... Have you even _told_ her?! Does she even know what you _did?!_ "

"Yes... I told her everything..."

"... Then... But she's... She's-"

"-She's still here?"

Snow doesn't answer, but she doesn't need to. Regina glares at her poisonously, before telling herself that this is a situation in which she has an opportunity to either help or hinder things between herself and the Sheriff. It is not instinctual- in fact, it goes against her very grain- but she sighs as she leans back in her chair and regards the younger woman solemnly.

"On the day of the storm, I found your daughter walking around like a complete idiot in the rain; soaking wet, and with plans to cut through about three miles of woodland without a clue where she was going. I invited her in... I despised her, and not only that, I knew exactly _who_ she was, you understand? It would have been all too easy to let her continue wandering around the way she was, but I didn't want the girl to come to such a hatefully pathetic end. For no greater reason at the _time_ then... Miss Swan was _better_ than that. It was just too _easy_ an end after all the clashing of horns between herself and I.

Unfortunately for _me_... Emma can be rather intoxicating when she puts her mind to it, or rather, _thinks_ before she speaks."

The Mayor catches the black look that crosses the schoolteacher's face upon her choice of the word 'intoxicating' and she tries to decide whether the blonde would find her mother's reaction amusing or embarrassing. Sighing, she gives a regally dismissive flick of her hand.

"She intrigued me... She can really be quite lovely, despite hiding it _remarkably_ well..."

Snow catches the small smirk that tugs at the brunette's lips at this statement and finds that she follows suit despite herself.

"She can..."

Nodding, the Mayor sighs as she decides to drop her tone of mere pleasantries; all too aware that despite the nervousness that had crossed the Sheriff's face upon recognizing her mother's voice, Emma will only remain absent from their company for so long. Her voice low, and playing with her knife awkwardly to match Mary Margaret's continual stirring of the spoon, she continues in a voice that causes the younger woman to look up at her with a frown.

"... I didn't know if she would come back... And I didn't call her here under false pretence either, just so you know... I was fairly certain she would come in response to my call... But her _staying_ here with me is as much a surprise to me as it is to you... You have a girl you should be proud of, Snow... To a point where it concerns me..."

"I... I don't... How do you mean?"

"She wishes to track down Rumplestiltskin."

"As do I! After what he-"

"-She thinks she can help him. She thinks that if she offers to take up her part of a deal they made- she is lovely, but she can be alarmingly _stupid_ in the process- that he will... That he will leave her, us, _everyone_ alone."

"What?!"

"Don't be so surprised... She is _your_ blood after all."

"She... Well yes, she is, but, I mean... You can't let her actually _do_ it! She doesn't understand what he's capable of doing! She-"

"-She understands well enough."

" _No!_ Regina, you and I both know what happens to those who deal with Gol- Rumplestiltskin! He kidnapped her, true, but she doesn't know how _bad_ things could have gone for her with that beast-"

"-When I walked into that apartment, I found the Hatter, not Emma. He was going to kill me, and then he was going to murder your daughter. He told me so. He told me all this so very casually due to the fact that the Dark One was sprawled out on the floor suffering a sure concussion after your little ray of sunshine incapacitated him. The Hatter drew his shot and I hit the floor... I hit the floor because Emma came running in and sent us both crashing down to avoid the bullet before penetrating Jefferson with one of her own. She came running from the bathroom, where she had been hiding... And she'd had _reason_ to hide. She shot the Hatter because she understood _perfectly_ what happens to those who cross the Dark One; she just called him by a different name. The girl was... W-was smeared with her own blood, filthy, shaking, half naked and seriously injured... She understands just _fine_."

"...Oh, Emma..."

"Yeah?"

The schoolteacher glances up, startled, to find the blonde making her way into the kitchen. The Sheriff sniffs and tosses her hair arrogantly, clearly trying to pretend she's totally at ease with her present company. The action lets both older women know that the blonde has heard none of their previous conversation, and Regina shoots the schoolteacher a warning glance, but Snow addresses her daughter incredulously.

"She says you want to help Gold?!"

Emma looks from the irate paler woman to the Queen and throws her hands up in the air childishly as she leans against the kitchen counter.

"You came over here to _yell_ at me?!"

"No, I came over here to _talk_ to you... _Now_ I'm here to yell at you!"

Green eyes roll moodily, and the brunette can't help but smirk at the peculiar family dynamic taking place. Clearing her throat, she regards Emma pensively.

"As you can see, your mother is about as keen on the idea as I am..."

"Why the hell did you _tell_ her?!"

"She told me because I _care_ about you! I know this is all a lot to take in, Emma, but you're my _daughter,_ and I _love_ you!"

"You can't just _say_ stuff like that because you know who I am now..."

Her words are spiteful, but her expression reads mostly of nervous discomfort, and she crosses her arms over her chest defensively. Mary Margaret frowns, looking quickly to the Mayor who raises an eyebrow but remains silent, before turning back to the blonde.

"I loved you _before_ the curse broke _too_ , Emma... It wasn't _just_ Regina looking for you..."

Emma sighs, staring down at her feet awkwardly.

"I know... I love you too. Both of you... Damn it."

She lets out a low chuckle, and the brunette rolls her eyes while the schoolteacher pushes herself from the table and pulls the younger woman into a tight embrace. Dark eyes find the blonde's as the latter regards her wordlessly from over Mary Margaret's shoulder and the Queen offers the Sheriff a small smile.

Wrapping her arms around the raven headed woman, Emma closes her eyes for a brief second, before muttering loudly.

"So where do you guys think we should start our search?"

Snow sighs, pushing the blonde away to regard her at arm's length before letting out a frustrated huff and turning to the brunette.

"I don't think we're going to be able to talk her out of it..."

"I doubt it. I've been trying to talk Miss Swan out of things since she _got_ here to no avail..."

Emma grins triumphantly, and Regina has a sneaking suspicion that, had her mother not been present, she would have had quite the fountain of innuendos to bring to _that_ last statement.

She smirks.

"Go home, get changed, spend some time with your mother and meet me here at noon... And send Henry back home..."

There is a brief moment's hesitation, but for Regina it feels as though her heart will burst in that short space of time. Finally, the blonde offers her a small nod and a brilliant smile.

"Alright."


	80. Chapter 80

"You stayed over at my _mom's_?!"

Henry pipes up, his eyes wide as he perches on the blonde's bed with his legs crossed upon the fraying covers. She shrugs awkwardly, kicking off her jeans and tossing them over her shoulder to land smartly in the laundry hamper- well, cardboard box- beside the window.

"Well, it was late... She called about a group of people outside her house that were giving her trouble."

"Couldn't she just put a spell on them now?"

"I don't know... Probably... That wouldn't have been very _nice_ though... "

"She's the Ev-"

"-She's going to do things a little _differently_ this time around."

"How do you know?"

"She told me so."

"Emma you can't-"

"-I can, and I will. Now get up so I can make the bed."

She pushes at him playfully and the boy rolls off the side of the bed easily, landing in a purposeful heap on the floor at the Sheriff's feet. Rolling her eyes, Emma makes as if to step on him as she leans over to straighten out her bedding; Henry shrieking loudly.

"Don't! Don't! Mercy!"

Chuckling, she pulls him back onto his feet and pulls a fresh pair of jeans from the chaos of her closet, wriggling into them easily.

"Turn around."

Henry does as he's told- waiting patiently as his mother grumbles to herself as she strips off her top and strives to locate a bra- bright eyes falling to the crumpled scraps of paper littering her nightstand, each adorned with his name.

"What are those?"

"Huh?"

"There's paper here with my name on it."

"Oh... I tried to make an envelope for your card- s _hit._.. The card-... Oh, Henry, I'm not sure where it got to... It was in my pocket and I guess-"

"-It's okay, I understand."

The boy assures her hastily, revisited by his previous fear that the blonde might be angry at his irritation at finding her missing. Clearing his throat, he continues cautiously, turning back towards the Sheriff at the sound of mattress springs as she perches on the bed to pull on her boots.

"Did Mr Gold really _take_ you?"

"... Yeah... Yeah, he did."

"Did he hurt-"

"-He just wanted something from me, Henry, and I guess he thought if he didn't scare me a bit that I wouldn't listen."

"He scared you?"

"... A little."

"... And your wrists... He did that?"

Glancing down at the white bracelets of scar tissue circling her wrists with a frown, the Sheriff sighs, looking up at the boy with troubled eyes.

"He uh... He tied me up and I over-reacted a bit... It uh... It's not as bad as it looks."

She shudders, her memory of the time spent in her fevered delirium a hazy nightmare she has no intention of sharing with the boy.

"Your mom sorted them out after she found me... Kind of neat I guess; like permanent bracelets...'

She holds her arms out to him as she is all too aware of the young brunet's curious gaze, though he strives to disguise it. Welcoming the blonde's invitation, Henry steps forward, taking his mother's hands in his own and inspecting the curious white marks lining her arms with childish interest.

"I'm sorry about your flower..."

He points to the small tattoo on her left wrist, marred with a flash of white as though crossed out; deemed void. She supposes she has no qualms with that period of her life being erased and forgotten.

"It's okay, I'd kind of grown to hate that thing anyway..."

She smiles, taking back her hands and rubbing at her wrists self-consciously. Aware that bright eyes still linger on her, she raises an eyebrow, her grin faltering ever so slightly.

"You okay, kid?"

"My mom... She really found you?"

"She did."

"... She asked me about my book when you went missing... About Rumplestiltskin... She... She must have known who you were; that you were Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter..."

"Yeah, she did. She... She knew quite early on, she said."

"She _told_ you!?"

"Yeah... We discussed the curse... How she did it... _Why_ she did it... "

"She told you all that?"

"... Your mom feels... She understands what she did was... Was wrong..."

Emma shrugs dismissively; imagining Henry has a million more questions just burning away, but deciding Regina can take the reigns on the rest. She is cautious about putting words into the brunette's mouth, and this is not a topic to be taken lightly.

"Come on, let's get you home, kid."

Jumping off the bed and ushering him down the stairs, she offers David an awkward smile as the man sits stirring sugar into a steaming mug on the kitchen island.

"Tea, you two?"

Shaking her head and muttering a polite declination, she smirks to herself as Henry belts out a hearty 'no thanks, gramps' as she imagines just what Regina would make of _that_.

* * *

"You're late."

Emma rolls her eyes as the brunette pulls open the heavy wood of the front door, but adopts a small grin as Henry stops in front of Regina and cautiously puts his arms around her.

"Am not, it's like five past twelve."

"Oh, well, will you look at _that_ , and I'd always been led to believe you were _incapable_ of telling time..."

"I can tell the _time_ , I just don't have a watch..."

The blonde grumbles irritably, Henry's grin a flawless copy of the brunette's, although his mother accessories the emotion with a roll of glittering eyes.

"Perhaps it's time to invest in one, dear; I do believe it's in your budget."

Regina quips airily, moving aside so that Henry and Emma may enter. The boy looks back at the Sheriff curiously; a little surprised that she is permitted to follow him in. A brief glance shared between the two women addresses this adjustment in the way of things also, and Regina clears her throat, directing them all into the kitchen as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Once seated on one of the elegant chairs surrounding the table, Henry throws the blonde a puzzled glance as she takes a seat opposite him; wondering if he should warn her that she is probably not supposed to do so. To his surprise, the Mayor simply pours three glasses of juice and brings them over carefully, before taking up the empty chair beside him.

"Henry, Emma and I have some things we need to discuss pertaining to Mr Gold-"

"-You mean Rumplestiltskin..."

"Yes... I suppose I do."

"So, I was right this whole time! I was _right_ and you made it so no one would believe me! So that I had to see Archie! So that-"

"-Henry..."

The brunette sighs, looking to the blonde who nibbles at her lip awkwardly. Realizing that in the context of social awkwardness, Emma is hardly likely to be her saviour, she opens her mouth to continue, when the Sheriff surprises her by interrupting in a low, patient tone.

"Remember what I told you about good and evil?... She _couldn't_ have told you, Henry... Even though you were smart enough to figure everything out... Without magic... No one would have listened. She _protected_ you in a way... But right now, kid, we have to forgive and forget, because we're not out of hot water yet. So I want you to do something for me... For us; Regina and I... We're taking the same side on this one, and just like you did with Operation Cobra, I need you to help me now, too... We... We have a _new_ mission."

"Really?"

Henry looks from the brunette- who regards the younger woman with a peculiar expression- back to Emma and breaks into a grin.

"What is it?!"

"I'll tell you all that in a second. But first go and get your book."

"Can we think up a new name, too?"

"Sure, kid."

Beaming, Henry pushes himself from the table, stumbling in his haste to get to the stairs. Shaking her head, the blonde turns to Regina and adopts a frown.

"What... Why are you looking at me like that?"

"... You just... You never cease to amaze me, Miss Swan..."

"Okay..."

"I couldn't have told Henry..."

"I know. That's what I _said_ "

Emma frowns, confused.

"Yes... But you could have done so for Henry's sake; to appease an awkward situation... But you didn't. You _meant_ it."

"I did... Now quit looking at me like that or we're going to have to explain a whole lot _more_ to the kid!"

"Ugh. _Really_ , Miss Swan?"

" _Really_ , Madame Mayor."


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Lyrics not mine, they belong to my long time favourite: Rob Zombie- 'Teenage Nosferatu'. As always, I hope you enjoy, and please comment. :)

Standing in the doorway and watching as the small brunet flips through the colorful pages of his book, Regina frowns as Emma listens amiably enough to Henry's frantic chatter; long legs crossed on the cool stone floor with her back against the sofa.

"Miss Swan... Could you come here for a second?"

The blonde glances up at her in confusion, having expected the Mayor to come an join them after finishing making her promised batch of coffee. Using Henry's skinny shoulder to help pull herself up- the boy sighing playfully- she makes her way over to the brunette who beckons her out into the privacy of the hallway.

"What's up?"

"What _exactly_ were you thinking?"

"...How'd you mean?"

"I asked you to bring Henry _home_. Not include him in all of _this_... Don't get me wrong, dear, I appreciate your kind words just now, but you really must have something _wrong_ with you if you think bringing my son into the fray of things is a good idea!"

"He's my son, too."

"Well, then I'm thankful you have so far had little to do with his keeping!"

Green eyes regard the Mayor dangerously, and Regina hazards a guess that the only thing keeping the younger woman from retaliating with hateful venom is the visible evidence of everything which has transpired between them at her wrists.

"Don't."

"Emma, he-"

"-He'll find out about this whether we tell him or not, Regina, believe me!... I'd much rather have an idea what the kid's getting up to and how _much_ he knows, then have him take it upon himself to perform his _own_ investigation... Because he _will_!"

"... Did you tell him what happened?"

"He asked. I confirmed."

"How much?"

"What do you mean?"

"What did you tell him?"

"Like... Nothing. I'm not an _idiot_! I just told him that, yes, Mr Gold, uh, 'took' me, and that he wanted something. Henry asked about my wrists and I told him it was no big deal and that you fixed them."

"... And you claim you're not an idiot..."

"Shit, dude, I had to tell him _something_! The kid-"

"-Miss Swan, I am not your 'dude', nor anyone else's... You need to tell Henry the truth."

" _What_ truth?"

"The truth about what Gold- Rumplestiltskin- did to you! Emma, you tell the boy that he merely stowed you away for a little while until you were able to escape and you do him no favours... You could have _died_..."

"Oh, and I'm just supposed to just pull the kid aside and be like 'Hey, guess what!? So, I was bleeding pretty profusely, and I blacked out a couple of times, and'-"

"-Oh stop being so _ridiculous_! You're a grown woman; act like one."

"Then what-"

"-He doesn't need to know the _details,_ but you can't just brush this _off_!... Emma, if you only _knew_ what a state you looked when I f-found you! I...I-I..."

" _Alright!_... Alright... Ok...Please... Can we _not_ talk about it? Shit..."

"But you have to!"

"Fine. I'll talk to him..."

The pull to the blonde's mouth speaks volumes as to just how keen she is on the idea, and the Queen sighs, leaning against the wall and regarding the Sheriff with troubled eyes.

"I wish I could understand how you work sometimes... I don't... I _really_ don't think this is a good idea."

"What _choice_ do we have?... So far as I read in that book, we don't stand much of a shot against the Dark One. Not if he decides to come after us now..."

"Rumplestiltskin is powerful, true, but I am _too_ , Emma... He may possess a greater strength, but if we lie low, and we-"

"-That's the _thing_ though..."

"What is?"

"If we 'lie low'!? So far, since the curse broke, I've been at yours, and I've been at home... Hardly 'lying low' in a sense of secrecy. Do you not think that if Gold meant me harm- and I speak of my own safety as it is myself he made this goddamned 'deal' with- he would have shown up by now? He has his magic back! And me?... My part in all this is done! I played my part, and now I'm just plain old Emma... If Gold meant to finish me... Any of us... Wouldn't we know about it by now?"

"My dear, such faith is foolish..."

"It's not faith. It's logic. I'm not saying the man isn't a threat. I'm simply saying... I think this may be Gold's version of an opportunity- a chance- and I plan to take it... And, hell, if I'm wrong, then so be it... I'm not going to be any _less_ screwed if the Dark One _plans_ to screw me, you know?"

"If he plans to what now?"

Regina raises an eyebrow and the blonde blushes and rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean..."

"... Sadly, I do... Why must you so often be right, dear? It really is rather irksome."

"My cross to bear, _dear_."

Shaking her head in bemusement, the brunette takes the Sheriff's arm gently and pushes her back towards the drawing room.

"I'll leave it to you to tell Henry what he needs to know. I'll place a call to Sydney... By the sounds of it, you and I are in for a little trip down town."

* * *

_I am the shadow. I am tomorrow_   
_I am the hero with a bloodied whip..._   
_I am so hazardous,_   
_My name is Lazarus._   
_I am a pirate on a devil ship._

"Hey!"

Rolling her eyes, the brunette withdraws her hand from the volume control as Emma taps it irritably away.

"Your taste in... Are we calling this _music_!?... Is truly appalling."

"Yeah, well, my car; my say."

The blonde grumbles, and Regina sighs as she recognises their inane bickering for what it really is; comfortably familiar noise to fill the tense void of time as they make their way slowly towards Gold's shop.

So far, the Sheriff has stalled her faithful bug twice since leaving the Mayor's, and though she mutters to herself as to the pitiful state of her car, neither woman is fooled into thinking the reasoning behind her fractured driving is anything other than the ominous task which lies ahead.

_I am the sickness. I am the quickness._   
_You are the virgin dying in the spring._   
_A hungry fat cat,_   
_looks at you black rats..._   
_I am a dark and wicked thing-_

"-Please, just turn it off!"

The brunette huffs- just a little too high- as she slams her palm against the volume dial; pausing the hateful track as it lilts towards its conclusion. Her breathing is laboured and Emma glances nervously over at her before swallowing audibly and returning her attention shakily to the road.

"Remember what I said... If he was going to hurt us, he would have done so already..."

"I fear you are deluding yourself that all pain must be physical."

"How do you mean?"

"... I have a lot to lose..."

"You and me both... But I'm not going to let that happen."

"I know you _think_ you mean that, but-"

"-Regina. I mean it. He's not hurting you. He's not hurting Henry. He's not hurting me. Not if he wants me to play his game... And he _does_... I'd bet my life on it."

"... That's what I worry about."

"It will be okay, I prom-"

"-Don't."

"Fine. Get your coat. We're here."


	82. Chapter 82

_"Fine. Get your coat. We're here."_

The blonde's tone is disconcertingly devoid of emotion, and when the Mayor turns to face her, the younger woman's mouth is set in that familiar hard line the brunette decides she will always hate. Nodding- and, despite everything, feeling a small sense of frustration when she realizes that, yet again, Emma is calling the shots- she plucks her suit jacket from the back seat and slips gracefully from the car.

" _Emma!_ "

An indignant whisper as the Sheriff slams her door shut with little consideration of the task at hand. Green eyes flickering up to meet brown as the younger woman pulls her long hair out of the back of her leather jacket, Regina frowns as the blonde simply shrugs. When she speaks however, Emma's tone is low and kind.

"It's not like we're on the down low, Regina... If he didn't hear that, then he's gonna hear that little bell above the damn door..."

"...We're not going to try enter a little more stealthily?"

"Why? I want to talk to him, not sneak up on him."

"My dear, the thought of _you_ 'sneaking up' on _anyone_ is laughable..."

"And here I always thought you'd be such a tough crowd..."

The Sheriff winks. It is an oddly nervous gesture, but still one for which the brunette is thankful. Pulling on her jacket and fussing her dark locks away from her face- _Need to get it cut, with all that's been going on I've been letting it grow out_ \- she offers the younger woman a wry smile and proceeds to take the lead towards Gold's shop, Emma at her heels.

* * *

"He's not here..."

"I can see that."

The brunette's tone is irritable as she snaps back at the Sheriff, but Emma pays this no mind, simply scanning the eclectic array of junk once again. She has already checked the back of the shop, as well as the small bathroom- ignoring Regina's plea that she wait for her so that they might do so together for safety- to no avail.

"You don't think that for whatever reason, he didn't get his powers back and he's still up in that apartment, do you?"

"Not a chance."

"But, what if-"

"-Even if you _were_ right- which you're not- and Rumpelstiltskin remained devoid of power, Gold is perhaps the _only_ other person I could imagine going to similar lengths as you yourself went to when restrained in such a way to escape... It is the fault of no villain that the man walks with a limp, Miss Swan."

"But then where-"

"-Ah! I thought I could feel my ears burning!"

The little man chuckles as he appears as if from nowhere, stalking out from the deep shroud of shadow that looms in the corner. His eyes sparkle with cruel humour as he watches both women make a bizarre attempt to stand protectively in front of the other.

_How delightful._

"Gold!... You're here!"

"... Observant as ever, Sheriff."

Pretty white teeth flash at him in a snarl and the pawnbroker raises his hands quickly in a sign of peace before pointing to a pair of dusty stools that rest opposite the counter.

"If you would both take a seat."

"We didn't come here to exchange pleasantries, Gold."

The brunette barks and the little man sighs, moving over to the ancient coffee machine in the corner and pressing its power button.

"Curious... I was under the impression that was _precisely_ the reason Miss Swan was so eager to pay me a visit... Unless you two are already on different pages... But then, young love never was-"

"-Shut up. Yes, we're here to talk. "

"So _talk_ , Sheriff."

"... What do you want?"

"Miss Swan?"

"You took me for a reason... What was it?"

"Well, if you had spent less time _fussing_ quite so foolishly, you would perhaps remember me explaining a little about your role."

The Sheriff opens her mouth to unleash whatever venom the pawn broker's comment garners, but the Mayor stills her swiftly, leaning forward on her stool and regarding Gold dangerously.

"You would do well to watch yourself, Rumple..."

Eyes darting about the brunette's fine features, Gold hesitates for a moment before leaning back in his chair and turning to the blonde, offering her a curt nod.

"Yes, you're right. My apologies, Emma... I'm pleased to see your injuries have been suitably taken care of. As I told you at the time; I can only apologise that things went the way they did. Your ill health was _never_ my intention... Alas, if only such a recovery were possible for poor master Jefferson..."

The pawnbroker raises an eyebrow as a series of complicated emotions cross the younger woman's face, and Regina speaks up swiftly to break the chilling silence Gold's words garner.

_Now's not the time, dear. I realize with all that's happened there are things you have yet to think on, but please, Emma, not now._

"Tell us what you want, Gold."

"From you, dearie, I want nothing but the civility to allow me to get on with my business... Miss Swan... I wish to show you something."

The little man rises from his high-backed chair, and for a bizarre moment, the the blonde imagines he plans to remove his suit pants, but he simply locates a small, silver key from the depths of his pockets and makes his way over to an ornate display cabinet looming behind him. Pulling a large, curious item from its depths, he brings it back to the table and places it in front of the Sheriff before glancing up at his guests and inquiring politely

"Coffee?"

The blonde shakes her head distractedly, green eyes fixed on the heavy fabric that covers whatever object lies beneath. Regina purses her lips and offers him a cold glower.

"Just get on with it..."

Shooting the coffee maker a wistful glance, Gold resumes his seat with a sigh, dark eyes trained on Emma as he pulls the fabric cover off of the object on the desk with a flourish.

"...A globe?"

The little man smirks, but it is not an entirely cruel reaction. The blonde's response is so perfectly, well, _Emma_ , in its long-suffering delivery it tickles him; never quite able to shake the odd sense of amusement the Sheriff instills in him. He can almost _hear_ her carrying on with 'big whoop, it doesn't even have any countries on it' or something similarly inane, but imagines that Regina's close presence has the younger woman minding herself a little more than he is used to.

"What _is_ that?"

"Why, dearie, young Emma just _told_ you! I-"

"- _Gold!_ "

The brunette's rage is tangible and the Sheriff lets out a nervous hum as the lights flicker ominously, subconsciously shrinking a little closer to the Mayor as she regards the heavy chandelier above them with wide eyes.

"... It's a globe, as Miss Swan so rightly pointed out-"

"-I'm warning you-"

"-But it is a _special_ globe... Its use is not to tell of lands to be explored, but to _find_ what has been lost to the one who uses it..."

"Kind of just looks like a weird, white ball if you ask me..."

"... You are able to put up with this, Your Majesty?"

Gold looks up at the Mayor with a raised brow, smirking as the Sheriff glares at him irritably. Waving her hand lazily in a bid the pawnbroker continue, Regina serves him a severe warning glance.

"It is only white, Miss Swan, due to the fact that it has not been told for whom- or what- to search... Without such information, how would such an object even know what _land_ to display?"

"Uh..."

Emma glances uncertainly over to the brunette- as though looking for a hint as to how to answer- but the Mayor simply continues to keep her critical gaze trained on Gold, whose disdainful arrogance softens slightly as the Sheriff continues to struggle for an answer she has no way of knowing.

"What I want from you is simple, Emma... And I believe Mayor Mills may have some clue as to what it might be as well, for am I not correct in thinking you studied Henry's book during Miss Swan's absence, Regina?"

"How did you-"

"-How did I know? Simple... And rather boring, I'm afraid... Through no use of magic, of course, but simple logic. You wanted Miss Swan back and you knew I was at fault in her disappearance... Knowing _who_ I am, you would have been foolish to ignore what you have been trying so desperately hard to hide..."

"You created the curse for _yourself_... To find your son... Correct?"

"Hmm... Mostly, yes. I will not pretend that it was not a largely selfish endeavour. But I _did_ give you what you wanted, and let's not forget that."

"You _coerced_ me into wanting it-"

"-I did no such thing! My dear, I realise it must be rather awkward to find yourself in a relationship in which you have attempted to murder your girlfriend's mother on numerous occasions, but trust me, I'm just as _surprised_ at your choice in partner as you are!"

Regina snarls at the little man furiously, although, somewhere in the back of her mind she cringes as she suspects the part of Gold's statement the woman beside her is going to have most issue with is the term 'girlfriend'. To her surprise, Emma proceeds to clear her throat pointedly and address the pawnbroker impatiently.

"Well, I don't know what you want _me_ to do about whatever was in that book... It says you let your son get sucked into some fucking whirlpool in the ground... What am _I_ supposed to do about it?"

"True, Bae was... 'Sucked into another world', if that's how you want to word it... _This_ world. A land without magic."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because this is the _only_ land of the sort."

"Okay... Still don't get where _I_ come into all this..."

" _You're_ going to find him."

"Wait, what? How the hell am I supposed to do _that_?! How would _I_ know where your kid's gone better than you do?"

Raising an eyebrow and glancing pointedly towards to empty globe resting on the table, Gold smirks as green eyes roll irritably.

"You have already paid a small part of your debt to me without even realising it, Miss Swan. With the curse broken, and magic available once more, the use of the globe is once more possible... Watch."

Lifting his finger and placing it at the very tip of the globe's axis, he maintains eye contact with the younger woman as he presses down; piercing the fleshy pad almost down to the bone before withdrawing his hand slowly, blood beading lazily at the whorls of his fingertip. Hovering his hand over the sphere's surface, the three of them watch as a single drop of blood falls gracefully to mar pure white.

"You couldn't have done that before...?"

But the blonde stills as her eyes widen, watching as the spilt blood seems to ebb and flow until, little by little, the globe holds a recognizable shape.

"Shit..."

Turning to the Queen, Emma regards her with naked shock, as though questioning whether the brunette sees such sorcery also; still unable to quite get a handle on the absurdity of it all. Offering the blonde a small nod, Regina frowns as she notes a peculiar speck of movement on the otherwise static map.

"Where's that?"

"...New York..."

The Sheriff mutters; accosted by the peculiar knowledge that her companions have little clue as to what lies outside of Storybrooke. She suddenly understands why Gold requires her cooperation.

"Gold... It's a big city- _the_ 'big city'- I don't... I don't know how you imagine I'd find some guy out of the millions of others."

"I was under the impression that finding people is what you _do_ , Miss Swan."

"Well, sure... Marks. Perps. Guys I get briefed on... No offence, but the kid was, well, a _kid_ when you lost him, so you won't know all that much about who he'd be _now_... Kind of hard to track someone you know nothing about..."

"Then I suggest you get started as soon as possible, dearie... You _will_ find my son... You _must_."

"Gold, I-"

"-Enough. There is no need for argument, Emma; a deal is a deal. You will do this for me, and that's the end of it... We leave tonight."

"Wait, you're going _too_!?"

The brunette interjects fiercely, her eyes dark and her teeth exposed.

"Well, I wouldn't send the girl off into the sunset alone, Regina. While I know nothing of this New York, I imagine having Miss Swan traipsing the streets all by herself is hardly the most sensible of options. I will-"

"-Then I'm going with her."

"... You?"

"Regina-"

"-Yes, me, and don't 'Regina' me, Emma, out of Gold and I, I currently hold the track record for the person who _hasn't_ kidnapped you and caused you severe injury... I'm coming with you."

"But... What about Henry? We can't bring the _kid_... We have no idea what we're getting into!"

"Well... Of the two of you, it is yourself that is bound to get herself into trouble.. Storybrooke is _safe_... Sydney will be able to-"

"-No. Not Sydney. Mary Margaret-"

"-Absolutely not-"

"-Yes. Or I go alone."

"... You're not going alone."

"Then it's settled."

Dark eyes regard green with a scowl and the pawnbroker smirks to himself; wondering if the two women have any idea how absurd their little argument is to any excluded from their own little world.

The Evil Queen. The Savior.

Odd.

But there is a certain poetry to it.

This may well be a blessing in disguise.


	83. Chapter 83

There is little more to be said between the three of them as the women rise from their stools and head towards the door. Gold imagines that there will be _plenty_ the Sheriff and the Mayor will go home to discuss, but he himself cares about only one thing; Bae.

And the Swan girl will stand up to her part of the bargain and find him... He will accept nothing less.

Raising a brow when the brunette slows as they reach the dusty curtain shrouding the door, he cocks his head to the side as he watches her touch the blonde's elbow briefly, her words low but perfectly audible.

"Go wait in the car, I'll only be a minute."

"...Why?"

_Wary. Curious. Childlike._

"Because I asked you to."

 _Oh, well, I'm sure_ that _will go down well, given Emma's ever obedient temprement._

"And _I_ asked you why..."

_Can't argue with that, dearie..._

But the Sheriff's stubborn expression- the one which serves to make her look both older and curiously infantile as it conjures up the 'I want' lines at her brow- falters after only a moment, and Emma surprises him as she simply sighs defeatedly and shrugs; grumbling something unintelligible as she stalks from the room.

Smirking to himself, Gold runs a finger pensively over the curved surface of the globe as he studies the Mayor's dark tresses.

"Well, I say, there really _must_ be something, hmm, _magical_ between you two, dearie! You have tamed the-"

But his words are reduced to a pained croak, as frail shoulder blades collide with the heavy cabinet behind him and an unseen force presses ruthlessly at his throat; crushing his vocal chords mercilessly.

The little man's eyes glitter in the darkness- so reminiscent of a beast's caught in a trap- as the sharp tap of expensive stilettos sounds dangerously across old wooden boards, and red lips form a familiar snarl before him.

"Another word and I'll take your tongue... Don't try me..."

Weathered cheeks flush an angry scarlet, and the brunette hisses menacingly as she increases the force emanating out into the little man; Gold's eyes bugging sickly from sunken sockets.

"Oh yes, you're the Dark One, I _know_ , and I am nothing but your student... But that was _then_ , Rumple... That was then and this is now... And _now_... You will listen to me. You will listen to me or I will personally see to it that you never lay eyes on that poor, misguided wretch of yours again... Understood?"

Dark anger in blackened eyes, but the pawnbroker gives a slight nod and the Queen continues, moving in ever closer. A vixen, a huntress; alluring, if not ready to go in for the kill.

"The _only_ reason you're not writhing on the floor in agony this very second is because that young woman who just left would think ill of me for committing such an act... An act of _justice_ , nevertheless!... Do you know how _hard_ it is to comply with such a will, when you have every reason to disobey?... Of course you don't... You are alone. Selfish. You abandoned your boy like a coward, a lowlife, and your darkness is all-consuming... You _couldn't_ understand... But, while I will do as Emma wishes of me... Know this; if it were up to _me_ , you would be barred away to rot. Tortured, left to suffer... What you _did_ to her, Rumple... The way I found her... You best thank whatever dark and twisted faith you adhere to that she has her mother's weakness for compassion... If it were up to _me_... I would have you watch as I forced your boy to endure the suffering you allowed that young woman to go through-"

"-It was never my _intention_ -"

"-I don't care... I don't... Care... _Emma_ might. _I_ don't. You _hurt_ her... And that is _all_ I care about. You took her, and you strung her up... You may not have intended for such injuries as those obtained to her wrists, but you were careless with her... And that... I _cannot_ allow to go unpunished."

"But, if you are to honour your word to Miss Swan, punishment is not an option..."

Gold's words are hoarse, and he massages his throat as he speaks, but he doesn't goad the brunette, he merely offers her a polite statement.

A statement which causes the Queen to smile coldly.

"Emma's wish to help you, while unwise, is very simple... You and I, of all people, should know that there is no such black and white definition as 'good and evil'. But there _is_ such a thing as being 'fair', and, despite her _many_ flaws and shortcomings... If there is _one_ thing Miss Swan is, it's fair. She believes you deserve aid rather than punishment, as she is clinging on to the misguided belief- _hope_ even- that there is some _good_ in you.

She forgave me... To put it that way cheapens the notion in a way I find distasteful, but it is the simplest way of wording it... She forgave me, and she wishes to forgive _you_... To trust _you_... She refuses to label you as 'bad'... I find such a choice to be foolish, but I am also in a bind, as I am in no position to argue.

I will honour her wish to aid you... To allow you a chance to prove us all wrong as to your nature... But for _hurting_ her-"

The pawnbroker cries out as a sharp, white agony shoots up his arms; his wrists feeling as though they are on fire. Thin streams of blood spill from curious lacerations in papery skin, soaking into the expensive silk of his shirt.

"-I made no such promise to forgive..."

A haze of purple and the quickening flow of crimson stills instantly; plush fabric stained a dark maroon, but weathered flesh seemingly unmarked. Letting out a low groan of lingering pain, Gold slumps slightly as he leans against the old, ornate cabinet, regarding Regina through untrusting eyes.

"Feel _better_ , dearie?"

The bitterness to his tone does little to mask the uncharacteristic discomfort lacing his words... Dark One or not... In this new world things are different, and there is an odd question of hierarchy between himself and the Queen which he is cautious to test while the stakes are stacked so painfully high.

"A little... But I didn't stay behind to watch you bleed, Gold, much as I might like to. I stayed to warn you, so you best listen... You best listen, because just as you took something from _me_ , _I_ once took something from _you_... And I promise that you will want this 'treasure' back, and you will want it back in better condition than I found mine... I don't _owe_ you such courtesy of course... But, Miss Swan's peculiar way of seeing things has left me questioning certain methods and practices... So I will refrain from stooping to such despicable forms of retribution and leave your treasure untainted for now... But I will tell you this: You so much as _touch_ Emma again... And I will destroy it right in front of your very eyes..."

"I-"

"-You put her in any form of danger... You allow her to be put in a position where she feels threatened, where she is even _remotely_ unhappy... I will make you pay for it. Understand?"

"... You have something of _mine_?"

"Yes. And, until this little nightmare is over and you have released Emma from her duty of following through with your deal, it will _remain_ mine, and mine alone... I suggest you refrain from testing me."

* * *

"...Everything okay?"

Emma's tone is light and carefully neutral, but the brunette doesn't miss the crazed mess of her curls- the result of a nervous habit of pulling slim fingers restlessly through her long hair- or the tick at her jaw. Nor does she miss the way green eyes had roamed over her briefly as she had ducked into the warmth of the younger woman's bug.

She tries to tell herself that the Sheriff had in no way been looking for signs of violence.

For blood.

"Fine, dear."

"That's good..."

Curt, almost clinical, and the blonde starts the car and puts it into drive. Sighing, Regina flicks the switch on the stereo, allowing the hateful hollering of the younger woman's music to fill the silence. After a while, Emma turns to her, her expression kinder as they roll towards the Mayor's mansion.

"How come you stayed? What happened? Why couldn't I-"

"-You and your questions!... Nothing happened, Emma... I just... I wanted to make a few things clear to Gold... About you."

"... Oh..."

"And about how if he so much as _looks_ at you the wrong way... I will make it my duty to have him regret it."

"...Regina... I don't _need_ -"

"-It's not _about_ what _you_ need, dear... It's me. _I_ needed to do it."

"... Oh... Okay..."

"Quite... And I _do_ hope you plan on being a little more eloquent if I'm going to be stuck in a car with you for the next few days."

The blonde scowls at her, before breaking into a grin; the tension between them disappearing easily.

"Ah, well lucky for you I know plenty of car games."

"... Oh god."


	84. Chapter 84

As Emma pulls up into the looming shadow of the Mayor's mansion, she turns to the brunette with a frown as the darker woman negates to slip from the slightly sticky discomfort of her bug; the day unseasonably warm and the air-con busted.

"Uh..."

"You aren't coming in?"

"I can ... Won't Sydney-"

"-Never mind about Sydney, the man's a mess. Besides, I suppose I better run the fact that he'll be in charge of Henry by-"

"-Hey,  _woah_ , wait! I thought I told you the kid was going to stay with Mary Margaret while we were away?!"

"My dear, you tell me all _sorts_  of things to which I pay little attention."

"Regina! that wasn't the deal! I thought we agreed? I made it clear that you weren't coming with me unless Henry stays with my... Mom."

Rolling her eyes at the blonde's childlike griping, the Mayor turns in her seat to regard the younger woman loftily.

"And just how do you suppose you would stop me from coming along, Sheriff?"

"I... Well, I guess I can't  _physically_  stop you-"

A slight twitch to the side of the younger woman's mouth despite her irritation and the brunette sighs with ill-hidden amusement.

"- But it's pretty shitty of you to go back on your word like that..."

"I never once  _gave_  you my word; you told me that it was 'settled' and I failed to rectify you on the matter in front of Gold."

"Ugh,  _Regina!_ "

"Ugh _, Emma!_ "

"...Seriously? You're going with mimicry?"

"Well, you make it so easy, dear..."

Chuckling as the blonde lets out a low groan of frustration, Regina growls when slim fingers flick at her thigh sharply.

"Why don't we just ask  _Henry_  what he'd rather?"

"Because we both know what his answer will be."

"Exactly! See, it _is_  settled!"

Rolling her eyes as the Sheriff kills the engine and jumps swiftly from the car, the brunette slips free from her side, regarding the blonde irritably over the obnoxiously yellow roof of the bug.

"This isn't over, Miss Swan..."

"Really? Sure  _feels_  like it's over. We've stopped talking about it and I'm walking away."

Sighing as she glares moodily upon golden tresses tumbling frantically as the younger woman turns away with a smirk and jogs easily up the stone steps to the front door, Regina slams her car door shut and follows along with a sour expression. Pushing fussily past Emma to slide her key into the lock, her anger dissipates ever so slightly as a warm hand slips momentarily to her waist; the gesture amiable and reminiscent of the warm affection in which the blonde so often pretends to be lacking.

* * *

"Your Majesty... Miss Swan."

Regina frowns at the man who comes hurrying towards the door; not liking the drop in temperature evident in his tone as he regards the Sheriff.

_And not_ altogether _keen on the fact that I should feel so ridiculously protective over the woman. I doubt_  she _even noticed._

"Sydney..."

The brunette goes on to usher them into the living room, watching pensively as the blonde veers off towards the sofa where Henry sits reading and flops down next to him, grinning. Turning to reporter, she explains the basics of their current situation; informing the man that she and the Sheriff are to be taking leave of the town for a few days and that, while her son is to spend the respective time with the young schoolteacher, she is looking to him to keep an eye on things.

"You're leaving Henry with  _her_? Regina-"

"-Your Majesty, Mr Glass... And yes. Apparently so."

Frowning in confusion as the brunette mutters these last words with an irritable glance towards the young woman sprawled out inappropriately on his Mayor's immaculate furniture, Sydney keeps his thoughts to himself. The Swan woman's current display of slobbish behaviour irks him, given the caliber of the company she is fortunate enough to be keeping, but he knows better than to raise an issue which Regina herself seems to be letting slide.

"Your Majesty..."

"That will be all for now, Sydney."

Shooing the reporter from the room and out into the hallway, Regina waits impatiently as he shuffles back into his spotless work shoes. She can make out the low drawl of the blonde as she chats to Henry, and from the occasional inquisitive quip voiced in return, she imagines Emma is explaining their imminent absence. She is once more struck with the curious notion that- despite her irritation at the blonde's insistence of leaving Henry in her mother's care- she is, well,  _okay_  with Emma having taken it upon herself to talk to Henry. Bidding Sydney a curt farewell, she makes her way back into the living room and stands in the doorway; listening in on the Sheriff's conversation with the young boy thoughtfully.

* * *

"Were you planning to help at all?"

The brunette sniffs irritably, casting a bemused scowl over her shoulder at the Sheriff who lies lazily on the plush covers of her bed. The venom in her tone garners her little fear, however. In fact, on the contrary, the blonde proceeds simply to grin cattily as she continues to twist a strand of hair repeatedly around her index finger.

"You really want me going through your  _stuff,_  Madame Mayor?"

"You don't have to  _go through_  it, but you could at least move out of the way so that I can lay things out."

Casting her gaze coolly upon the vast expanse of mattress available to her side, Emma raises an eyebrow with a smirk as she watches the brunette continue to fuss with the multitude of garments spilling from her dresser. She decides to keep the fact that in doing so, Regina sways her linen-clad behind in a most pleasing manner to herself.

"Regina, we're going away for two days- three days tops- just chuck some extra underwear in your bag and be done with it."

Rising slowly to regard the blonde caustically through the looking glass resting on heavy mahogany, the Mayor rolls her eyes, speaking to the reflected Sheriff disdainfully.

"I have a slightly more refined sense of self-worth than yourself, dear..."

Struck with the memory of Emma's own admissions while lying in much the same position not so long ago, she frowns, deciding to follow up her comment as to the blonde's inner psyche with simple teasing in order to take the bite out of her words.

"I'm not what you would call a 'dirty girl', Sheriff."

Emma chuckles at this appreciatively, her tongue caught between her teeth as she watches Regina go back to work.

Well, as she watches Regina's ass as the darker woman goes back to work.

"Would that imply that you think I am, Madame Mayor?"

Rolling her eyes irritably- not a woman to take kindly to being repeatedly distracted from the task at hand- the brunette turns to face the younger woman once more, caught out by the husky quality to the Sheriff's query. Dark eyes flashing as she finds intense green, she recognises the twin spots of colour at high cheekbones and the mischievous pull to the blonde's soft lips easily and offers her own smirk as she stalks slowly towards the bed with the pretence of using its surface to lay out the sweater held in her hand.

"There's very little 'thinking' to it, Miss Swan."

"Oh?"

Breath catching as the younger woman pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and allows her hand to wander the flat planes of her stomach until slim fingers rest on rough denim, Regina clears her throat; trying to repress the grin threatening to grace her full lips.

"What  _are_  you doing, dear?"

Airy. Arrogant. Bored.

"Hmm, I guess I'm initiating a little pants off dance off-"

The Mayor loses her battle with nonchalance; husky laughter rolling prettily off her tongue as she shakes her head and looks down at the Sheriff with a sigh.

"... Oh, Miss Swan, your sexual advances continue to be so subtle and romantic..."

"If you wanted romance, Regina, you settled for the wrong person."

Emma chides, turning her attention back to the fingers working the stiff brass button of her jeans before raising blown green to meet humorous brown as delicate hands cover her own.

"Oh, I think I'll stick with what I have..."

Climbing easily onto the bed and straddling the swatch of lace exposed through parted denim, the brunette nips at the blonde's smirk bossily, pushing the younger woman hard against the headboard, soft pillows framing golden tresses like a halo.

"And don't call it 'settling'... That's not what it is."

Scarlet lips leave the Sheriff's and begin a hot trail down her throat; Emma reciprocating by slipping her hand wickedly down to the clasp of crisp linen dress-pants and fiddling them open skilfully.

"Fine, you picked the wrong person to fall madly, head over heels in lust with-"

"- _Love_  with."

"No lust?"

The blonde's playful teasing is replaced by a low gasp as neat white teeth nip at her collarbone in reprimand. Turning her head to the side to allow better access as the Mayor continues her ministrations ever lower, she dips her fingers delicately into wet silk; the angle a little difficult to work with, but the hitch to the Mayor's breathing enough to have her continuing her exploration eagerly.

"We need to h-hurry up, dear... You still need to go home and p- _ah_ -pack..."

"It'll only take me five minutes."

"...How cocky of you..."

Laughing at Regina's teasing insinuation as to what she had been referring to, Emma rolls them swiftly; baring down on the brunette with an evil smirk as she continues working her fingers beneath quickly dampening lingerie.

"To pack.  _This_... Won't take nearly as long."

Opening her mouth to offer a disdainful quip in return, Regina lets out a choked cry as skilled fingers pick up a cruel pace and her vision becomes obstructed by a mess of cornsilk as the Sheriff trails her tongue swiftly down the slender column of her throat. Squirming in an attempt to both increase the pleasure offered by the blonde and escape so that she might at least remove her clothes, the Mayor eventually gives up in order to respond hotly as the younger woman's free hand finds her glossy locks and brushes them shakily back as she finds her lips with her own dominantly.

Tangling the fingers of her left hand into pale tresses to keep the Sheriff in her delectable position, Regina lets the right slip beneath flimsy cotton to find taut muscle before trailing up to find the pleasant weight of globed flesh encased in cheap lace. Growling in response, the blonde increases the force played out between tellingly quivering thighs; using her palm to brush maddeningly against the sweet spot where the Mayor needs it most.

Chuckling as the brunette's kiss becomes clumsy and laced with soft moans, Emma slows the delicious torture of her fingers, allowing painfully tense thighs to relax and panted breaths to become slightly more regular as Regina plays with tangled curls gently; deepening their kiss with slow passion as she pulls the younger woman to lie flush on top of her, her free hand playing soft patterns across the Sheriff's back.

"Told you..."

"Oh, hush."

Rolling off the brunette, Emma climbs from the bed and does her jeans back up, smirking at the irritable expression this action garners her.

"You were right, we need to get a move on if we want to sort things out with Mary Margaret. You'll just have to admire my lady parts later."

Rolling her eyes with a low breath of laughter, Regina sighs, fussing her hair back into subordination.

"Miss Swan, if you imagine we will performing a repeat act of these activities in that woman's house, you are-"

"-Of course not!"

"But then-"

"Last I checked I had a car in which the seats can be put down."

"You want to do... To do  _this_... In your car?!"

"Why not? You said it yourself... I'm a dirty girl."


	85. Chapter 85

"I don't like this..."

Glancing over at the brunette when she mutters these words for the fifth time, Emma sighs; deploying her turn signal- despite the little, blinkering light not having worked for at least a year- and pulling over into a small lay-by secluded by trees.

"Regina... Stop."

"I can't help it."

"Henry's going to be fine... Come on, I know you're not thrilled about the idea, but if there's _anyone_ we can trust it's Mary Margaret. I mean... She's _Snow White_..."

"It's not a matter of whether we can _trust_ her and that oaf; _trust_ has nothing to do with it! I just don't _like_ this!"

"... I know... But Henry will have a much better time at mine then he will knocking about your great big mansion with Sydney."

Noting the venomous pull to the Mayor's lips, the blonde hastily explains herself.

"Mary Margaret's good with kids! And it's cosy!... She'll hang out with him is all I'm saying... Not... You know..."

"I still don't like it."

Rolling her eyes at the brunette's irritable muttering, the Sheriff sighs and stares vacantly out the window before adopting a sly smirk.

"Well... Maybe we should take your mind of it, then..."

"Really, Miss Swan..."

The Queen rolls her own eyes at the saucy lilt to the younger woman's tone, before letting out a small gasp as the blonde leans over swiftly and steals a kiss. Refusing to give in to the urge to smile as her lips brush against Emma's, Regina mutters moodily.

"What on earth are you doing, dear?"

"Hmm... Okay... Kind of a blow to my ego that it's not obvious, but I guess I can lick my wounds...Or maybe _you_ could..."

Emma quips huskily and the Mayor's eyes widen as she leans back to regard the Sheriff.

"You _can't_ be serious?!"

"Actually, I'm surprisingly adept at it; see?"

Wiping the playful grin expertly from her face, the blonde regards the Queen with a stoic coolness so similar to that she had once used to retaliate against the Mayor's own icy exterior that the brunette takes in a nervous breath before shaking her head with a small smile.

"You're such an idiot."

"Duly noted."

Laughing as dark eyes roll, Emma unbuckles her safety-belt and clambers swiftly over to straddle the brunette's lap with minimal difficulty. Regina blinks; a little thrown by the peculiar grace with which the Sheriff has managed to accomplish what should have been a relatively tricky maneuver- _and this by the woman who can barely walk in a straight line to save her life_ \- before adopting an air of irritable disdain.

"My dear, please tell me you don't seriously believe I'm _actually_ about to condone rutting in your scrap-pile of a car."

"Well, I'm the Sheriff... If you don't condone it, who are you going to call on for help...?"

Opening her mouth to scold the blonde for such a crass notion, the Mayor lets out a low growl as the younger woman leans in and nips playfully at her throat; golden tresses tickling her nose maddeningly.

"Emma, _really_ , dear..."

"What?"

The Sheriff inquires innocently, sitting back so as to regard the Queen with wide eyes. Regina's huffed response is cut short as the blonde makes a small rotation with her hips that completely contradicts the chaste smile at her lips. Giving the younger woman a measured look, the brunette offers her a reprimanding swat on the thigh before finding pert denim with sharp nails and pulling her flush; tasting her deeply while her eyes flutter contently closed.

" _Ah! What the_ -"

The brunette's panicked cry has the Sheriff laughing hysterically as she falls on top of her; the back of the seat protesting with a muffled thump as it collides with the rear bench roughly.

" _Told_ you the seats went back!"

"Miss Swan! When something makes that kind of noise there is no _way_ it was designed to act in such a fashion! I felt something _break_!"

"Relax, I can fix it, I'm sure..."

The blonde mutters disinterestedly, her attention elsewhere as she goes back to trailing her tongue down the Mayor's throat. Chuckling lightly, Regina plays her hands through cornsilk curls before dragging her nails roughly down the Sheriff's spine; smirking as the younger woman shivers. Finding her jaw and pulling her back up, the Queen tastes soft lips slowly, her dark tresses fanning out on the tattered seat beneath her.

Grunting something that sounds a little like 'wait', Emma sits up and pulls her t-shirt swiftly over her head; tossing it absentmindedly onto the driver's seat before going to work on the small clasps to the Mayor's shirt. Humming with quiet appreciation as slim fingers slip beneath her exposed bra and the younger woman finds her lips once more, Regina speaks throatily between soft nips to delicate rose petals.

"You've done this before..."

She'd meant it as a joke- her comment predominantly serving to tease the Sheriff for her swiftness in removing her shirt- but Emma responds with a husky giggle; speaking before she has time to re-evaluate her words.

"Well, yeah, how do you _think_ Henry was-"

Shutting up with an audible click of her teeth snapping together, the Sheriff cringes as Regina tenses immediately beneath her. Hoping to brush past the painfully awkward moment, the blonde attacks perfect skin with new vigour- slipping her hand ever lower down the Mayor's flat stomach- but stern fingers find her chin and force her to look back up into dark eyes.

"...What was that?"

"... Nothing..."

"No, go on."

"I didn't mean... Can we just... Can we not-"

"-No."

"Regina..."

"You mean to tell me my son was conceived in the back of a _car_? That Henry is the product of... Of a cheap, backseat _fuck_?"

It's the younger woman's turn to tense up, her expression suddenly hard as she replies coldly

"...Cheap?"

"You tell me..."

"Just what the fuck are you implying?"

The anger in the Sheriff's tone causes her voice to crack slightly and the brunette sighs; the majority of her irritation leaving her. Keeping her hands clasped at the small of the younger woman's back, she speaks quietly, not quite offering Emma an apology, but requesting a truce with her tone.

"Nothing... 'Cheap' was a poor choice of word..."

"Yeah! It was!"

"But the rest...?"

"Well, what do you _want_ me to tell you?! What, that I was seventeen and the kid was totally planned and it happened in some fucking meadow on a bed of daisies, and that-"

"-Stop. Enough."

Regarding Emma levelly until the blonde relaxes slightly, Regina slides her hands in-between rough denim and soft flesh with a little difficulty; giving a small squeeze which has the blonde rolling her eyes with a huff.

"I just... I'd never thought on the matter before. I'm sorry if I offended you, it wasn't my intention."

"...Fine... "

Shrugging awkwardly in her current position- propped up on her elbows as her stomach remains flush with the Mayor's- the Sheriff sighs, casting her gaze down to a small catch in the darker woman's bra strap to avoid having to maintain such intense eye contact.

"You, uh, you really never thought about... the 'Him'?"

"The 'Him'?"

The Mayor repeats with a smirk, despite the uncomfortable subject matter.

"You make it sound as though Henry's father was some sort of superhero... Or villain?"

"Neither. He was just some guy..."

"... 'Just some guy'...Really?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

Sighing at the irritating nonchalance the Sheriff has swiftly so _conveniently_ adopted, Regina takes a second to weigh up whether the matter is worth pushing further, before offering the blonde a slow smile as she squeezes firm flesh harder and tilts her head back to expose her throat invitingly; humming when the younger woman gives up on her moodiness and presses the flat of her tongue to a particularly sensitive spot.

Grinning into hot flesh when her attentions garner her a low whisper of 'oh god', Emma slips her hand deftly between them to play patterns over luxurious linen.

"I thought the whole point of this was that it was _your_ turn..."

The Mayor admonishes breathlessly, as in spite of her words, she lets her legs fall open just a little wider beneath the Sheriff's pleasant weight.

"But you're just so much fun..."

Groaning as the blonde alternates these words with small tugs at the black lace of her bra with sharp, white teeth, Regina allows such sweet attention to continue for just a little longer before taking a firm hold of narrow hips and forcing the younger woman to sit back up.

"As are you."

Flipping them around isn't an option in the narrow space available, so she simply fumbles with dark denim- feeling entirely debauched as she notes the beginnings of condensation misting the windows of the car- and pulls the Sheriff's jeans roughly open. Taking heed of Regina's struggle, Emma lifts her hips ever so slightly to allow the brunette to pull her Levi's partially down her thighs, leaving just a small swatch of cotton between her sex and the Mayor's bare stomach.

"A little 'cute' for you, no?"

The brunette quips, hooking her finger into the thin strip of material that disappears between pert cheeks, before allowing it to snap back smartly against pale flesh.

"Today was laundry day."

The blonde explains with a smirk as she drinks in the way heavy lashes hood dark eyes as the Mayor remains fixated on the scant fabric which only just covers her.

"... Makes me wonder what you've packed to take with you..."

Offering the brunette a coy wink, Emma gives another small circle of her hips- her lip pulled salaciously between her teeth- before she breaks down into a low chuckle and pushes her long hair back with a smile.

"Actually, nothing all that exciting. I would apologise, but I'm not sure a trip with Gold in tow is the right moment to crack out my assortment of 'back up panties'... Depending on how things go, though... New York just happens to have a small shop or two..."

"I'm surprised you _like_ shopping."

"I don't."

"Then-"

"-But I don't usually have any reason to buy anything _fun_..."

"Oh? And just what 'fun' things would _we_ be shopping for, then?"

"I'm sure we could find one or two items of interest..."

"Hmm... I think I've found something right now..."

The blonde gasps with feigned shock as manicured fingers pull down the flimsy cotton of her underwear. She allows Regina to guide her hips back ever so slightly so that she sits at an angle; granting the brunette easy access.

"...Thank you..."

"For what?"

"Taking my mind off of everything..."

"You're going to bring that up _now_?!"

"Oh... How foolish of me... I suppose I'd better take _your_ mind off of it..."

"...Smooth, Regin- _ah_!"

The Mayor chuckles maliciously as the Sheriff shrieks the last syllable of her name; curling her fingers expertly as she slides them easily into the blonde's slick entrance.

"Very."

She agrees, smirking as she teases the younger woman mercilessly. She allows Emma to lean in for a brief kiss before ordering her back up.

"No, stay that way; stay sitting up..."

"But, I-"

"-Please."

Cheeks flushed as Regina continues with her delicious rhythm, the Sheriff nods obediently, resting back with her hands out behind her on the dashboard.

The brunette swallows in appreciation; eyes locked on the younger woman's taut stomach, simple bra and flushed face as brilliant green clenches tightly shut and lips part to allow soft pants of pleasure.

"Look at me."

"Uh uh..."

Emma mumbles distractedly, her hips rocking in time with fast moving fingers.

"Emma..."

Obeying slowly, the Sheriff forces her eyes to half mast and regards the brunette darkly as her breathing becomes shallow and laced with small moans.

"Stay up..."

The blonde nods once more, though she's not sure whether or not she's going to manage such a task as her arms ache from bracing her at such an angle, and her core flutters deliciously as skilled fingers play with her ruthlessly.

"Okay..."

Smirking at this breathy response, Regina drags her nails with measured cruelty down the sex-slick expanse of the younger woman's stomach and hones in on the blonde's most sensitive area.

"Fuck! Regina! _Fuck_!"

Watching with sordid intrigue as the Sheriff throws her head back- the enviable muscles of of her stomach twitching as her breath comes in rapid gasps- the Queen slows her ministrations and simply observes the blonde as she struggles to compose herself; her jaw a sharp line, and her throat long as she keeps her head back with her long hair ghosting her elbows.

Finally, when the Sheriff gets her breathing and heart rate back under control, she falls forward, brushing her lips against the brunette's as the darker woman tucks golden curls gently back behind her ears.

"You're magnificent..."

"I try..."

A rolling of beautifully dark eyes and the younger woman chuckles softly as she places her hand over the Queen's heart and deepens their kiss.

"As are you, Your Majesty..."

The title has the brunette shivering despite the salacious humidity of the car and she hugs the blonde to her tightly; trapping Emma's hand between her heart and her own.

"Whatever happens with Gold, with New York, with Baelfire... We face things together... Understood?"

She suspects Emma may respond to such a dramatic request with sarcasm or embarrassed stuttering, but the blonde surprises her; placing a delicate kiss on full lips before she whispers

"Always."


	86. Chapter 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I solemnly swear there will be plot in the next chapter... But these bits are too fun not to do.
> 
> Also, sorry for not mentioning before- now that I've deleted most of the A/N's- I apologise that this fic alternates between UK and US spelling so schizophrenically. I wrote the majority of it over 3 computers which were set to different auto-correct/ spell-check settings. I have gone back to edit spelling and grammar, but unfortunately, this is something I've neglected to take into account. Hopefully it's not too irritating :)

"Will you _stop_  that?!"

Regina hisses as she catches Emma plucking at her tank top out of the corner of her eye.

"I can't help it! I'm burning up!"

Offering the blonde an irritable sigh so as to hide the malicious smirk threatening to alight her lips, the Mayor simply mutters that such things are simply 'too bad'. Despite her light scolding, she hangs back a little to allow herself a better view of the Sheriff's predicament; thin cotton plastered to hot flesh still slightly slick from sex.

"Seriously, we can't stop by yours for a quick shower?"

"We're already late."

"Then what's the harm?"

"Need I remind you-"

"-That it's Gold we're dealing with... Yeah, yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I don't feel gross."

"And whose fault might that be, Miss Swan?"

"Oh,  _please_ , like you weren't right behind me on that little escapade!"

"Actually, I believe I was positioned  _underneath_  you..."

The blonde chuckles wickedly at this and the brunette muses that she might as well- for all intents and purposes- be dating a teenage boy.

_Dating... Dating... Dating? There's that word again..._

She mulls the term over in her mind as she follows Emma silently down the sun drenched sidewalk towards Gold's estate. It doesn't fill her with the sense of disquiet or denial as it once might have, but she finds that rather than discomfort she feels a small sense of regret.

She can't help but wish life could be so simple as the term might suggest.

Then again, much as  _she_  might like to partake in the more traditional wining and dining of courtship, her lips lift into a bemused little smile as she imagines just what Emma might have to say about  _that_!

Catching up swiftly with light taps of heels on cement, she toys with a loose golden curl gently, her heart feeling suddenly very full when the Sheriff sashays towards her so that they walk almost hip to hip, rather than ducking away with the growl she had been expecting.

"How _does_  your hair get in such a state, dear?"

"Hmm, I wonder..."

"You were sitting! _I'm_  the one who was lying back!"

"I know; I thoroughly enjoyed the view, _dear_."

Regina smirks; Emma's adoption of a rich tone to mimic her own simply serving to make the younger woman sound as though she is suffering from a bad cold and laughable to say the least.

She strives to keep her mind from stumbling towards the unhappy realisation that the past few days have been perhaps some of the best with which she has been graced, while, yet again, everything now stands in jeopardy.

She wonders if Emma is suffering from any similar uneasy thoughts but is unable to say.

The blonde can be hard to read, and when it comes to the subject of Rumplestiltskin, the Mayor would bet a great deal on the Sheriff being nowhere near as blasé as she comes across, but the topic has so far only served to irk her when discussed with the woman who pads causally along beside her. She knows Emma well enough to be sure that Gold's treatment of her back in that crude little apartment will be weighing heavily on her mind; the Sheriff- while seemingly surprisingly adept at being able to forgive and forget- undeniably proud nonetheless.

The younger woman had been forced into a position of intense fear, and this- maybe more so than the markings to her wrists- has the Queen wondering if Emma doesn't in fact present herself more as a ticking time bomb in regards to the little imp, than the cool, laid-back persona she is acting out.

"So, I've been wondering..."

"Hmm?"

"Where  _is_  everyone?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, like, the curse broke... There's magic... But apart from the night I came to yours to check on you, there's been no trouble... No offence or anything, but I just kind of reckoned on people having it in for you and coming after you...I mean... You're the Evil Queen, right?"

"Ah, and that would make  _you_  the rebellious damsel I suppose? The lost princess who would be pleading for them to have it within their hearts to  _forgive_!"

The brunette's words are delivered in a rich, theatrical tone, and Emma rolls her eyes as she jabs the darker woman lightly in the ribs with her elbow.

"Hardly... I'm more like your knight."

"You're my what?"

"Your knight."

"As in... My knight in shining armour?"

"Well, yeah!"

"...Honestly, dear, were you graced with  _any_  sense of femininity at all?"

Turning to regard the darker woman with a coy smirk, the blonde runs a hand through her hair and offers a flash of teeth as her eyes drop pointedly down to her chest, causing the Mayor to sigh and roll her eyes with ill-hidden amusement.

"You tell me..."

"A mere physicality, but I suppose you'll do."

"Gee, _thanks_!"

Smiling, Regina continues on in a more serious tone; her eyes flickering wearily to the looming pink of Gold's estate up ahead.

"I was of a similar opinion at first in regards to the patrons of Storybrooke, I must say. I believe the noticeable lack of activity out on the streets since the breaking of the curse is probably down to wariness, not just of myself, but of the change as a whole. Whilst I brought over all those with whom I had had a connection in the past, you must understand that many of the people who interacted day in, day out as their cursed selves have no knowledge of each other in respects to their previous lives in the Enchanted Forest. Some, such as the blue fairy, Rumplestiltskin, Snow and Charming possess a noteriety which mean they are less of a mystery, even if they never made contact with some of the others brought over, but for most, they are strangers. A cause for caution at the best of times... But, when you add magic into the mix... I would say that for most it simply seems wise to lie low until they have had the chance to sniff around as it were."

"I guess that makes sense... Less chance of getting zapped while doing the weekly shop..."

"Well... There are very few here capable of 'zapping' as you call it, but the theory stands, yes. I would also presume my association with yourself has kept those with a greater thirst for blood than sense at bay."

"Your association with  _me_? You think people  _know_?!"

"No, dear... And while I am _deeply_  flattered by the horror so painfully evident in every aspect of your being right now-"

"-Sorry, it's just-"

"- I merely meant that while you remain on my side and Snow on yours... The royals have yet to launch their attack, and so their people have yet to rally for battle."

"Attack?! Mary Margaret would  _never_ -"

"- Oh, that wet blanket would struggle to stamp out the life of a malaria ridden mosquito. Snow... Well, you've read Henry's book... She won't cross _you_  though, and, knowing what she knows, this means I remain 'safe'... Unless I fall into a lover's tiff with her little princess..."

"Call me _that_  again, and it might just happen..."

It is a low growl, dripping with warning, but Regina pays it no mind save for surpressing the usual small shiver the blonde's voice pulls from her when lowered huskily in such a way.

"Perhaps whilst in New York we should look into getting you a tiara-"

"-You want me to hit you?"

"No, and I would hope you would possess the good sense not to come to blows with one so powerful as myself."

"... You want a shelf for that ego, Regina? Maybe a nice glass-fronted cabinet to put in your office?"

"Oh, hush, you."

The brunette purses her lips as the Sheriff grins cattily, the two of them casting elongated shadows across the pavement; merging together every now and then when one steps a little in front of the other.

"I'll tell you what though, I've kind of spent the last couple of days wondering if Gold was going to magically appear... Especially when we were... uh..."

Emma laughs sheepishly, but it does little to hide the note of fear just audible on her tongue, and the Queen decides the younger woman has indeed been pondering the events of her capture. Aware that inquiring as to the blonde's wellbeing is a sure way to get snapped at even at the best of times, Regina negates to focus on the source of the slight tremble to the Sheriff's otherwise dry tone, opting instead to answer in a neutral manner.

"... The man is a snake, Emma, but to do so would serve him no purpose-"

"-Oh,  _sure_ , apart from-"

"-Much as I'm sure it would be a magnificent display- I certainly enjoy the half  _I_  get to watch- Gold wants  _one_  thing from you, dear... Oh, I'm sure he might _like_  all sorts of things... But he  _wants_  you to aid him- he  _needs_  you to aid him- and the man is a good enough judge of character to know that you will do so of your own accord. To mess with you could prove detrimental to his cause... I'm sure you would find Gold lurking in the shadows should you decide to run from this deal you made with him, but, so long as you continue with the intent to do your part, I imagine he'll leave you be... He would do  _well_  to, anyway."

Emma opens her mouth to taunt the darker woman for the murderous quality she injects into her final words, but finds herself simply licking her lips nervously and keeping her silence.

Whatever threat lies within Regina's low warning is almost tactile in its reality.

In its sincerity.

"Well... I guess there's no turning back now, anyway."

The blonde confides, almost in a whisper, and the brunette glances at her quickly before looking back at the grand front door outside which they now find themselves.

"No, I suppose not. Do you want to do the honours, dear?"


	87. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have not included the storyline of memory loss or loss of magic upon crossing the town line in this fic as I feel Belle is in some ways integral to this, and I don't plan on including BelleXGold in this fic apart from in passing comments.

The tension that shrouds Gold's car is tangible, and he imagines one would be able to slice through it with a knife. His knuckles are blanched a stark white as he grips the steering wheel too tight; not one to be thrown by a little discomfort, but his emotions balance dangerously on the wire as he thinks about the task ahead.

The Queen sits beside him with her back rigidly straight, and, like the blonde, she has said nothing since slipping into the plush warmth of the Lincoln.

When the women had arrived at his estate, there had been little conversation; Regina greeting him with a frown, while the Sheriff had showcased a peculiar confused expression he had been unsure whether to find maddening or curiously endearing.

Not that it matters.

A brief swap of forced pleasantries and they had filed off towards his car waiting patiently in the driveway.

Words had exchanged briefly between Emma and the brunette; the blonde asking Regina if she had a preference as to where she was to sit, and the Queen informing her sternly that the younger woman was to sit in the back, 'away from _him_ '. Predictably, such strict reprimand had garnered a scowl from the Sheriff- Emma huffing irritably as she slid into the seat behind Gold's- but the pawnbroker is unable to say whether such frustration had been the result of the wilful young woman being told what to do, or if it had been the result of being told what to do in front of an _audience_.

 _For the two of them not to have clawed each others' eyes out as of yet,_ one _of them has to be willing to take things as they come occasionally... And that's unlikely to be Regina._

They have been sitting- or _festering_ is perhaps a better word- in uncomfortable silence for not much longer than half an hour, but already this feels as if it may be one of the longest excursions on which he has ever embarked. He is anxious to get to New York and make progress on this want that has been left unsated for so long, but he is also wary of the need to tread carefully. It is not to his liking at all that the brunette has invited herself along, and he is apprehensive that the Queen may serve to complicate matters. _How_ , he doesn't quite know yet, but it would have been preferable to travel with Emma alone.

Still, as much as it vexes him, he is unsurprised by the way things have turned out.

_Never meant things to go the way they did...Never intentionally hurt the girl... Just as the Queen found it in herself to change, the 'Dark One' is perhaps no longer such a fitting name... Time and loss changes things._

This internal drivel has the little man letting out an irritable sigh through his crooked nose. He will leave such soul searching to Her Majesty- who is at least getting a little something out of it- and quit before he fools himself into believing he is as subjectable to grief and guilt as the brunette.

He simply hadn't planned on the Sheriff ending up in the appalling state she had, and that's all there is too it.

...All there is to it, however he'd had a hard time not allowing his dark gaze to fall repeatedly to skinny wrists back in the sun drenched valley of his driveway.

White lines- bracelets- circling the Saviour's pale flesh like strange and ancient markings.

Glancing up into the rear-view mirror, he studies the blonde curiously; the younger woman staring pensively out the window at the passing scenery, the never-ending battalion of forest trees causing her eyes to flicker restlessly.

Hypnotically.

So much so that he is thrown when cool green suddenly flashes up to find his own dark coals.

The Sheriff's expression doesn't change, and he is unsure just _what_ emotion lies behind thick lashes; willing to admit that his occasional difficulty to read Emma with the same ease he reads others makes him a little on edge around the woman.

_Only the Queen offers the same conundrum._

Waiting for the blonde to lower her steely gaze as he stares her down through the glass, Gold takes in a silent breath as the mirror goes suddenly dark with a shimmer of violet, and he returns his eyes to the road... But not before sneaking a glance at the brunette whose lip twitches with otherwise well-hidden anger.

He is willing to bet the Queen's magic goes undetected by the Sheriff, and he's right.

Regina casts her cloaking charm over the mirror with copper-mouthed distaste. She is aware somewhere in the back of her mind that the blonde would find her current internal struggle ludicrous, but is unable to help herself. She doesn't _want_ Gold looking at Emma. _Studying_ her. Not when she can't be sure of his intentions.

Over protective? She's sure Emma would be the _first_ to say so... But the younger woman did not come by the scars to her wrists blamelessly.

She is pulled from her thoughts by a loud sigh of theatrical boredom from the back of the car.

 _I'm_ almost _surprised she hasn't resorted to kicking the back of his seat..._

"Can I help you, dear?"

A raised brow and disdainful tone. It is not something they have discussed, but underlying feelings aside, the two women have slipped easily back into their old ways in some respects as they reside within Gold's company; something about which all three of them are silently relieved.

"I still don't get why we're _driving_ all the way to New York."

"What would you propose? That we simply show up in Manhattan in a puff of smoke?"

"...I guess I can't even tell you not to be ridiculous...But I _meant_ more as in why drive when we could fly?"

"I may have less of an understanding on such matters than yourself, but I can't imagine we'd get very far with the three of us banding together under your one license?"

"You guys have _magic_! You can't create a couple of forms of _ID_?"

The blonde huffs, crossing her arms in a teenage fashion which has the brunette rolling her eyes; recognising the Sheriff's pissy attitude to be the one she had once so frequently resorted to when feeling in over her head.

Gold speaks up in a neutral tone, all too aware that interjecting his opinion into the conversation between the two is unlikely to go down well with the Mayor.

"We could, Miss Swan... But for the sake of an extra six hours travel, it didn't seem worth the risk."

Regina turns in her seat to shoot Emma a look as she catches the younger woman muttering something about Jedi mind-tricks sullenly beneath her breath; not recognising the term, but recognising the symptoms of the blonde's sudden descent into childish moodiness as though she were faced with Henry rather than the town's functioning Sheriff.

"Pull over at the next road stop, we'll get some coffee and food for the car."

Despite Gold's presence as she directs her request- order- towards the little man, she offers Emma just the smallest hint of a smirk which she is almost sure she receives in kind as green eyes glitter momentarily up at her.

_There's no way the girl's stomach is the sole culprit of her mood, but, when one knows a sure way to subdue the beast..._


	88. Chapter 88

Regina regards Gold venomously as the little man's attention returns yet again to the counter of the small rest stop in which they have eventually decided to eat lunch. All too aware of her murderous scowl, he addresses her casually, but his eyes remain transfixed on the far corner.

"If looks could kill, Regina... I assure you, it is not Miss Swan whom I have my eye on, but rather what the good Sheriff deems a suitable choice of sandwich."

He smirks as he speaks, but in reality he spares very little interest in the blonde who stands with her hips cocked against the counter. It had been by silent agreement that Emma had been the one to have trotted off to place an order for the three of them, and he can't help but feel the beginning touches of trepidation as he looks around the unflatteringly lit greasy cafe and understands that this is neither his domain nor the Queen's. Dark eyes falling on foreign branding and unfamiliar faces, his attention returns again and again to two men arguing heatedly behind the counter- subsequently ignoring the blonde in a fashion he considers highly rude, but by which she doesn't seem perturbed in the slightest- over the happenings between their opposing 'teams' the previous evening. He knows enough of this land they've called home for the past twenty-eight years to understand the men refer to sports teams, but the pent up aggression over such trivial matters, and their crass language- especially in front of a young woman- is not something he is able to find peace with easily.

_That's what she's here for; why you brought her along in the first place. She knows how things work here._

Sighing as the brunette clears her throat pointedly, he finally casts his full attention back to her with a sigh.

"She won't thank you for playing her bodyguard. She doesn't need one."

"Who are _you_ to say what she does and doesn't want or need?"

"An observer, dearie... But more than that; the recipient of a rather spectacular headbutt from a horrifically injured young woman... The Sheriff can hold her own, and she's _proud_ of that fact, that much is obvious. I, however, neither meant her harm when I took her, nor mean her any now. She means one thing to me, Regina; a means to getting my son back."

"You're suggesting I should have sat back and let you whisk her off to New York... After _everything_..."

"It would have been preferable, yes... But I am unsurprised by this turn of events given how things stand between the two of you."

"Our relationship is none of your business-"

"-Nor do I wish to make it so. But as you _are_ here with us- and so clearly opposed to me having the slightest thing to do with her- I merely hasten to remind you that Miss Swan is simply making good on her part of our deal... Allow her the space to do so, and this whole situation stands to be fairly painless for all those involved..."

"I'm supposed to believe that once Emma tracks down your boy we'll never hear from you again?"

"... If neither of you make arrangements with myself, then I don't see why I would seek you out. _You_ have unwittingly played _your_ part to aid me in my interests, have you not?"

"How dare-"

"-Once Emma does the same, I have no use, nor interest in either of you."

"...You'll have to forgive me for finding such a promise hard to believe-"

The brunette's disdainful retort tapers off into a displeased hiss as the Sheriff comes strolling back to their dingy booth with three plates and packets of chips balanced expertly in her hands.

"You would be well suited as a waitress, Miss Swan; most impressive."

Emma rolls her eyes at the pawnbroker's words as she slides onto the vinyl upholstered bench next to the brunette, reaching across the darker woman to pluck up a decidedly murky looking jug of water and paper cup. The Queen however, adopts a thunderous expression; the term unknown to her until arriving in Storybrooke all those years ago. She had intended the curse to transport its victims into a position befitting their stature and persona in their previous lives, and she has since believed that a better role for Red would have been hard to find. To have it suggested that the blonde would be of a similar caliber infuriates her; conveniently choosing to overlook the months spent following the younger woman's arrival when she would have thought much the same. The Sheriff quells such disgruntled musings when she merely shakes her head, sipping at her water.

"Been there, done that."

The Mayor raises an eyebrow in surprise, but she supposes that apart from Emma's talk of her previous position as a bail-bondsman and her vague, yet rather distressing mention of what the brunette has translated within her own knowledge to 'tavern work', she knows very little as to the Sheriff's previous employment.

Of her former life in general.

"Your choice of lunch is _less_ inspiring."

Gold plucks at processed white bread and plastic yellow cheese with distaste, deciding that at least the ham looks vaguely edible.

"I _told_ you to pull over two stops back; there was a McDonalds and a Starbucks. This is what you get when you stop at a roadside Diner."

She shrugs, before taking in the small frown Regina adopts at this statement and clarifying with forced patience; finding the way the others are reacting to the outside world most disconcerting. She had told herself to expect it... But it still feels like she's stuck in some awful B movie rerun on the sci-fi channel.

"Diners aren't generally like Granny's... They're more... Well, see for yourselves."

"It's _ghastly_."

The Sheriff chuckles wickedly as she takes a generous bite from her sandwich; amused at the regal note within the brunette's voice.

"It's _reality_."

"Yes, well... Your obnoxious, sour tendencies are starting to make a little more sense."

The blonde rolls her eyes, and Gold observes with genuine curiosity the way such an admonishment from the Mayor has the Sheriff fighting off a smirk rather than chewing the other woman out for her insult as he would naturally expect.

Returning his attention to the dismal offering on his plate, he proceeds to shake his head when the younger woman pushes herself from the table- having finished her own food with startling alacrity- and inquires after any requests from the small candy stand at the back of the cafe to take with them on the road. The brunette responds in kind, and he allows just the smallest hint of a smile as he catches Emma mutter something that sounds suspiciously like 'your loss' before she disappears in search of sugar.

"...I can only give you my word."

"Pardon me?"

"There is no physical way for me to prove that I will leave you and the Miss Swan be once Baelfire has been found, only my word. You will either accept it or you won't, Your Majesty, but it will do you no good fretting over the fact now."

"...And yet I shall continue to do so anyway."

"Then, there is nothing more I can say."

"... You _know_ what she looked like when I found her! You _know_ what damage you caused!... And you _left_ her like that! _I_ then had to sit and listen to the girl talk of things such as redemption and change! I had to _sit_ there and needle out the _subtext_ , which is that a young woman you almost let _die_ in that crummy apartment is terrified of being considered a hypocrite! She doesn't want to 'mess up' because she knows she's in at the deep end with everything the curse has rained down on her, and all this time I'm listening to her speak in this odd, new, _calm_ manner I'm looking at her wrists and I'm seeing the _blood_ that covered her like goddamned _paint_! The thought of Emma having to sit in that car with you-"

"-Note how it is yourself and not Miss Swan who is getting worked up over this?"

"She _should_ get worked up about it! It should have been _her_ coming after you back at the shop, _not_ I!"

"I agree... And yet she seems adamant to act as though nothing has happened..."

"No. She simply won't put herself in a position where she might crack. As you so cleverly deduced, she is proud. She may have a hard time holding her tongue, but I imagine she's decided if she doesn't _start_ anything, she won't wind up struggling to _finish_ it. She hasn't just let what you did to her _go_... I'd take good care to remember that if I were you..."

"I'm sorry?"

"You don't know Emma like I do. Just because she _hasn't_ come for answers or to pay you reprimand doesn't mean she _won't_."

"I see... So I, the Dark One, am supposed to live in fear of a little blonde girl scorned?"

"... She is the Saviour... And she is Snow's blood raised in this ant's nest of hate, desperation and mindlessness you see festering before you... I would if I were you."

The brunette's tone is dark but low; aware that this is not a conversation they want overheard by the sorry patrons of this despicable establishment. Gold allows her a small nod, and tells her curtly he will bear her words in mind.

He does not, in fact, think of Emma as a 'little blonde girl scorned' but he is growing tired of dealing with the disgraced Queen when the only person he needs to keep sweet is the Sheriff herself. He understands Regina's point, but does not believe her threat... Emma neither has the power, nor the innate need for _revenge_ that would instil any true fear within him, and he has long ago discarded the trepidation that she might try to screw him over on their deal in some way.

It serves her no purpose... And the blonde is much smarter than she can sometimes come across.

Taking up his cane in defeat, he moves from the table stiffly; something in the air in this new and unknown world making his leg ache and his bones creak. He moves towards the peeling sign for the restroom posted to their left; smart dress shoes squeaking on cheap linoleum.

* * *

As Gold pulls open the door to the restroom, it is entirely by accident that he collides with its previous occupant. Cane slipping on damp tiles, he registers its tip connecting with flesh, before his vision is obscured by a mass of cornsilk curls and his ears fill with an almost primal growl.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"-Get away!"

He lets out a low croak as he is pushed roughly into the door which has swept briskly closed; shutting him and his assailant into the tiled prison within.

"Emma-"

"-Don't touch me!"

Despite the choked delivery of her words, there is no real trace of fear in her tone, but rather an animalistic anger, and when he gathers himself and looks up at her, he is faced with hard lines of rage etched across her face behind the damning end of a silver barrel.

"Miss Swan-"

"- _Ah!_ You move, you'll regret it! What do you want with me?!"

" _Nothing!_ I... I came to use the restroom!"

Green eyes narrow, before the Sheriff lets out a low sigh and whips the gun back into the pocket of her jacket as though such an act comes completely naturally. Shaken, Gold takes a tentative step away from the door and towards the blonde with his hands raised in a sign of peace.

"I came to use the restroom and bumped into you. I didn't even know you were in here."

"Why should I believe you?"

"What other choice do you have?"

"... You try anything... _Anything_... I'll-"

"-Emma, why would I _try_ anything?... As you said yourself... I _need_ you. I have no intention of causing you any harm... I never _did!_ "

The pawnbroker explains carefully, but he finds himself reflecting on the Queen's warning as the Sheriff simply proceeds to rest her rear against the flecked enamel of the sink and regard him with an intensity both alarming and alluring.

"So you say."

"... I do."

"Words are easy. Cheap."

"Miss Swan, I apologise for-"

"-Don't. I don't _want_ you to apologise to me. I want you to stand by your word that you don't plan on doing it _again_."

"I just _told_ you I-"

"-And _I_ just told _you_ talk was cheap-"

"-Then how do you-"

"-Actions. You see me and Regina through this, and you make sure we don't end up getting fucked over... Because I will tell you this much... I _know_ who you are, and I _know_ what you could do to me... But don't believe for a _second_ that _this_ time I won't be ready to give you at least a parting shot... You may be powerful, Gold, but you try _anything_ on either Regina or myself again, and I will have a bullet in your head before you do your wizardy shit, or die trying."

He wants to laugh at her for her term of phrase- at her grandiose threats and stone cold mercenary act in general- but reading people is something he has somewhat mastered over the years, and a single look at the hard ice of her eyes informs him that- however fanciful her warning may be- she means every word of it.

"... I don't want to hurt you... Or Regina."

"Time will tell..."

She shrugs, and it's as if the gesture serves to throw off the bitter exterior- _interior... that wasn't an act... it's what she's been hiding-_ of her anger, and she simply pulls a hand through her long hair and makes casually for the door, Gold turning to watch her go.

"Does she know you have that? Regina? Does she know you have a gun?"

"... She never asked."


	89. Chapter 89

When they filter back into Gold's car, there is little dialogue shared between them. The pawnbroker glances up at the blonde every now and then in the rearview mirror to find steely green glaring back at him, but the Queen negates to cloak the glass and he has a feeling she is unaware of the tactile tension that exists between himself and Emma.

Since leaving the bathroom, he hasn't mentioned the gun, and he is certain it is not a topic the Sheriff is about to bring up.

He knows she's armed, and she _knows_ he knows this.

Magic doesn't come into play.

She holds the cards.

He needs her.

They drive in silence for a couple of hours, although each of them will inwardly insist that it seems much longer than this.

As the sky slowly begins to seep a deep indigo, and the lights of the ever growing billboards illuminate sleep-pale, reserved features, the woman who would perhaps understand the curious feeling of insignificance brought by such spectacles best of all is fast asleep with her head resting against chilled, misted glass; her breath creating a small trickle of condensation as the temperature outside drops dramatically with the darkness.

Regina and Gold remain quiet; dark eyes flickering as the streets seem to vibrate with the activity of their inhabitants. To their right a group of women dressed in migraine-inducing neon cackle and shriek as their ringleader- a tall brunette in a veil- navigates her way onwards uncertainly on suicide heels.

To their left a man in a three piece suit vomits into the gutter.

The Queen glances back at the blonde with a disconcerted frown; not sure what to make of this urban circus.

"Emma?"

No response, and she reverts her attention back to the chaos that engulfs them.

Gold's fingers twitch at the wheel; the little man's nerves no less frazzled than the Queen's. There is no magic here- no power- but there is something else. Something rotten and tainted. He had smelt it on the blonde when she had first arrived in their little town, and now it assaults him in a most nauseating fashion.

No magic.

No rules.

There is no hierarchy here, but simply this thrumming mass of flesh and bodies in which one could get lost and the world would know no different.

They are most certainly not in Storybrooke anymore.

"Sheriff?"

The little man's tone is sharper than the brunette's had been, and it serves to rouse the younger woman from her slumber; Emma blinking sleepily as she takes in the flickering strobes of the city.

"...Huh?"

"It's getting late and we've reached our destination for the evening... We need to rest... _All_ of us."

The blonde rolls her eyes at this last part, not able to shake the idea that there isn't a tiny bit of resentment to the golden imp's words. She wipes at the window to her side childishly and peers out with a sigh.

"Fuck, I hate New York."

The Mayor thins her lips; her opinion much the same despite only having spent fifteen minutes in the city.

"Well, that may be, but your opinions are not of much help here... What we _need_ is a place to rest."

At Gold's irritable tone, the brunette's teeth flash instantly, but the Sheriff merely sighs and scans their surroundings with a little more attention.

"I guess just look out for a motel; that'll be the cheapest option..."

"Price isn't an issue. I _asked_ you to accompany me... That goes for you too, dearie."

He looks to Regina as he utters these last words and she rises to the bait immediately; dark eyes flashing as she opens her mouth to tell the little man just what she thinks about _that_ little statement. To her surprise, it is Emma that spits venom before she has a chance.

"Nobody has ever, nor _will_ they ever pay for me to spend the night anywhere. I don't want, nor need you to subsidise this fucking trip, Gold. Find a motel and pay your part. We don't want your money."

Looking back at the Sheriff- a little surprised at the anger that laces her tone- the brunette can't help but feel like she's missing something.

But then she knows little of the blonde's life up until now, and she supposes this trip may prove awkward in more ways than one. _Her_ history is on the pages of Henry's book... The Sheriff's is out in _this_ world.

Gold simply nods, not entirely surprised at the poisonous bite to Emma's words.

She is proud. He had known this as soon as she'd entered their little town and treated him with a caution she was not afraid to vocalise, and he knows of her impressive strive for dignity all the more since things had gone so desperately wrong in his little flat.

That she would refuse his aid doesn't surprise him at all.

"Just say when, Miss Swan..."

Ignoring the irritable glare she throws him through the glass, he continues along the claustrophobically congested road before the blonde pulls herself up to lean between the seats and points to a turning a little way ahead of them to the left.

"Try there, there's parking."

Following her advice, the pawnbroker pulls into a small parking lot illuminated by the glowing neon of a forgettable motel sign.

"They have rooms."

The Sheriff states, opening the door and sliding from her seat.

"How do you know?"

Regina asks as she exits through her own door, and there is a distinct difference in the way the blonde addresses this question to the way she has been speaking to Gold.

"Oh, they put up like a 'full' sign if there's no rooms left. Saves them having to deal with the hassle of people trying to book in when there's no space. I used to think it was weird Granny's didn't have one, but I guess that makes more sense now."

Her tone is uncharacteristically patient, and she opens the trunk before Gold has a chance; shouldering the brunette's travel bag without word as she waits for the pawnbroker to take his own.

"Come on, let's check in."

Again, she offers her full attention to the Mayor; stalking off with Regina at her heels as Gold watches them with a small frown.

_You don't know Emma like I do. Just because she hasn't come for answers or to pay you reprimand doesn't mean she won't._

The Sheriff's attitude is _far_ from paying reprimand, but it does serve the purpose of putting things into perspective for the little man.

He may have come to find he begrudgingly respects and enjoys the blonde's company, but it seems she has little time for his.

Following the two women with an apprehension that doesn't sit right with the Dark One at all, he hovers at the blonde's side as she addresses a weary looking redhead at the front desk.

"How long were you looking to stay, Ma'am?"

Both Regina and Gold blink in surprise as the Sheriff is offered this title, and the younger woman rolls her eyes as she catches a pretty smirk to her left.

"One night, maybe two."

"And, uh... Is that one single, and a double?"

The clerk gestures vaguely towards the pawnbroker as both women follow the direction of her fingers and frown.

"Uh, it's...It's-"

"-Three single rooms."

The brunette interjects, and the Sheriff turns to observe her with her bottom lip held apprehensively between neat, white teeth.

Nodding, the young redhead taps away at the keys of her computer, Gold studying the Mayor with interest while the blonde seems suddenly inexplicably enthralled in the grain of the countertop.

Oblivious to the peculiar tension, the clerk hands out three keys, the Sheriff plucking a card from her back pocket without comment and paying for all three rooms.

Regina makes a note to question her about this later.

Turning from the desk, the three make their way over to the elevator at the end of the bald-carpeted lobby, and proceed to ascend to the third floor of the establishment in silence. There is a peculiar tension between the Queen and the Sheriff which does not go unnoticed, and the brunette sighs as she realises it stems from her abrupt request for segregated sleeping arrangements.

Emma's irritation at this surprises her; the blonde never before having shown such a casual or compliant display of acknowledgment of their rather turbulent relationship, and she imagines Gold must be having a ball just about now.

As it is, the pawnbroker takes the key the Sheriff proffers him and bids the women a curt farewell before heading off towards his allocated room.

Opening her mouth to express some sort of explanation to the blonde, Regina frowns as tousled curls flurry in her direction; the key to her room shoved unceremoniously into her hand, before Emma stalks off towards her own door- the middle of the three- and disappears with a loud thunk of wood on plasterboard.

* * *

Regina frowns as she sits up in bed, unable to sleep- the mattress lumpy, but this is the least of her concerns- as she stares down into the chaos of light and noise below her. She is wary of the insipid thrum of the cesspit of this city- so unlike home- as she observes all manner of activities partaken in the streets, but her mind is not wholly on the happenings down below.

_Emma..._

She is perplexed by the blonde's irritable behaviour following her request for separate rooms, and though it pains her to admit it; she is also a little smug.

A lot has transpired between the two of them, and she feels she has shown her affection in an open and vulnerable manner on more occasions than one... But for the Sheriff to behave in such a way- stropping around like a woman scorned due to simply being exiled to her own room for the night- is something new entirely.

 _Is she honestly_ annoyed _by these arrangements? Is she really ready to admit such a thing?_

Such thoughts are broken by a soft knock at her door.

She doesn't bother asking who stands at the threshold.

She merely pads over and pulls it open.


	90. Chapter 90

It briefly crosses the brunette's mind that the soft knock at her door may not be the Sheriff at all, but rather the little imp responsible for this wretched trip, but it is a vague thought. Gold has no reason to come rapping at her door, and so long as Baelfire remains unaccounted for, she will come to no harm; the old pawnbroker reliant on the blonde, and therefore her safety is guaranteed by default.

Sure enough, when she pulls back cheap, white wood, she is faced with messy curls and a stern expression, although she catches a twitch of a smile at the side of the blonde's mouth and she is sure she knows why.

She offers her own small smirk in response; dark eyes pointedly roaming the younger woman up and down in the dim glow of the streetlights that filter through her window and cast her room an eerie, flickering blue.

Whereas she has packed a light, yet comprehensive travel bag for their time in New York, Emma had remained true to her word and simply shoved a bunch of multicolored cotton into the bottom of her satchel in a small, bundled mess. As such, she now wears the tank top she had been wearing beneath a light jersey during the day, and a pair of impressively creased running shorts; Regina's expensive, silken negligee offering quite an amusing contrast.

"Can I help you at all?"

The brunette inquires silkily, more than aware she is likely only aggravating the situation currently festering between them... But she wants to hear it from the blonde's mouth.

Wants to hear Emma say that she's pissed at the sleeping arrangements.

That she'd wanted to share a room.

Share a bed.

"No."

The Sheriff shrugs moodily, and Regina smirks, raising a brow in amusement as her eyes glitter in the semi-darkness.

"Just came here for the view then, did you, dear? I was-"

But her words are cut off as the younger woman lunges at her; the force with which she moves serving to send the Mayor smacking none too gently into the wall to their side, as the blonde kicks the door shut behind them deftly with a quick flick of her foot.

Chuckling wickedly against sordidly parted lips once she gets her wits back about her, the darker woman trails her hands roughly down the Sheriff's sides, before one winds itself swiftly into long hair and teases pale curls gently.

"Hmm... Are you _sure_ you didn't want anything?"

The fingers not entwined in tangled tresses dip beneath the waistband of the younger woman's shorts and Emma growls at her irritably; not ready to give up on her childish moodiness, but cocking her hips slightly to allow the brunette better access.

"Stop it."

"Stop what? Stop _this_?"

A quick circle of her thumb over the blonde's sweet spot, before Regina withdraws her hand with her eyebrow raised, laughing when the Sheriff makes a small noise in frustration.

"Stop _laughing_ at me..."

"But you make it so easy, dear! I'll stop laughing at you when you stop acting quite so foolishly..."

As she says this, she takes a hold of the younger woman's hips and proceeds to steer her towards the bed, despite knowing that her words are having the- admittedly desired- effect of winding Emma up something rotten.

"I'm _not_! I-"

"-You _are_... But then I suppose I can't _wholly_ blame you... But what did you _want_ me to do, Sheriff? Book us a double room in front of Gold? Oh, he may know exactly what the situation between the two of us consists of- or, at least he has a fairly good _idea_ on the topic- but you said it yourself, dearest; a trip with Rumplestiltskin in tow is hardly the most romantic of settings."

"I-"

But whatever irritable retort the blonde had planned to make is cut off by a small yelp as she is shoved briskly onto the sagging mattress of the Queen's bed.

Regina crawls on top of her easily, eyes glittering with malicious intent as she continues to hiss down at the Sheriff; her lips ghosting over the younger woman's own.

"-That's not the issue though, _is_ it, Sheriff? What's got your panties in a twist- figuratively, I see we're flying bare as usual- is the simple fact that my request for separate rooms _bothers_ you in the _first_ place... Am I wrong? _You_ would have asked for the same, but I got there _first_ , and now you're angry with me because you're so good at telling yourself that this is a one sided deal..."

"I don't-"

"-You're angry with _me_ \- which doesn't exactly seem all that fair from where I'm sitting- because _you're_ supposed to be the one to run all of that 'I could care less' bravado nonsense, and now you're stuck in your own little room, plagued by your own little thoughts of just... How... Much... You... Need... Me..."

Dangerous words broken up by deep kisses, and she lowers her attention to the blonde's throat as the latter scolds her angrily.

"What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean? I tell you I like you all the _time_... Well... I _show_ you, anyway!"

" _Love_ me."

"Fine, _that_. I've said that, too!"

"You have..."

"Well, then what the hell are you on about?! I'm pissed because... Well... You..."

"Yes?"

Regina raises herself up onto her elbows to survey the Sheriff quizzically; chuckling affectionately at the look of frustration alighting the younger woman's features as she struggles towards an answer.

_You're not even entirely sure yourself, are you, dear?_

Taking pity on Emma as her low laughter threatens to push the younger woman just a little too far, she leans back in to steal a much slower, gentler kiss, as she plays her fingers fondly through the curls at the blonde's temples.

"You're an idiot, Emma, you do know that, don't you?... How long did it take you to give in and come and seek me out?... It's been at _least_ a couple of hours... Don't tell me you've been sitting there wondering about my affection and loyalty for all that time because of such a _silly_ little thing... You _know_ I would always chose to have you with me; deep down you really _do_! ... But to get upset because you can't accept that you'd fret over such a thing in the first place... That's _ridiculous_... Especially when you're just talking to _me_..."

The Queen smiles against kiss-swollen lips as she feels the blonde finally begin to relax beneath her; the Sheriff's irritable glower softening into a greatly preferable sarcastic smirk, and her brow smoothing out to make her look much younger.

"...Right... So am I supposed to be paying for these little sessions, Sigmund, or is there like a certain amount of advice I get for free?"

"Oh, I don't give anything away for _free_ , Miss Swan..."

"Hmmm... Well that kind of sucks for you, because I left my wallet in my room..."

"I suppose we could work something out..."

"Oh?"

The raising of a well-shaped eyebrow and Regina smirks salaciously at the misleadingly innocent look of incomprehension Emma offers her; the flash of a shark-like grin giving her act cleanly away.

"Well now, let's see..."

Rising up so that she sits straddling the younger woman's hips, the brunette wets her bottom lip with her tongue and pauses as though deep in thought. Smirk widening wickedly, she plucks teasingly at the Sheriff's top; inching it slowly up to reveal delicious muscle and delicate ribs, before finally exposing firm breasts with a burlesque gasp which has Emma chuckling in gleeful amusement as it is an extreme rarity that the brunette will play the fool.

"See anything you like?"

Pink tongue flashing through sharp, white teeth, and the Mayor dives in for the kill; her own perfect, pearly whites biting at the pale flesh of the younger woman's sternum in a way that would seem cruel, were it not for what she knows of the blonde's tastes.

"A couple of things..."

"Ha!"

Wrapping her legs around slim hips, the Sheriff pulls the brunette into her; running her fingers playfully down the lean curves of the darker woman's back, before tugging at the flimsy silk of her negligee to pull it up enough to expose delicate purple lace.

Letting out a low sigh as a the Queen's velvet tongue lashes at the valley between her breasts, Emma tightens her grip in an attempt to roll them over; gasping in surprise her hips connect with something long and hard beneath the sheets, and emitting a cry of shock as a garbled hiss of static fills the room.

Regina reacts in a similar fashion; eyes widening in comical bewilderment, before she lets out a low chuckle as the small television on the nightstand kicks into gear and static transforms into the monotonous ramblings of a greying newsreader.

"Shit..."

The Sheriff grumbles, fumbling around in search for the remote. A gentle hand at her shoulder gives her pause in her endeavours.

"Leave it on..."

"Uh... No offence... But, it's kind of killing the mood..."

"I'm curious."

Regina shrugs, dark eyes intent on the small television set as a montage of army footage spills across the grainy screen; frowning as a man starts to speak about how the carnage that plays his backdrop had been necessary.

"... Why does he say these things? Is he not part of the King's guard?"

Ceasing in her irritable eye-rolling, the blonde frowns, struggling to wrestle herself from beneath the Mayor so that they sit shoulder to shoulder watching the screen.

"... You've never watched the news before?"

It's a valid question; both she and Regina being in possession of a television set back in Storybrooke, but, now that she thinks on it, she doesn't recall ever watching any form of current affairs with Mary Margaret, Ruby or anyone else in town, but instead simply flipping through old cartoons and movies and little else.

"No, dear... There was little point."

Nodding in a way that expresses not _understanding,_ but rather a simple acceptance of the brunette's words, Emma joins her in silently observing the flickering images presented on screen.

"So much pain to a country brought onto the people by the ones they have selected to protect them."

"Always the way."

"... Yes... I suppose you're right..."

Thinning her lips, Regina finds the telling plastic bulge of the remote and fishes it from beneath rumpled covers. Skipping through the channels with keen interest, she throws a bemused look to the Sheriff who sits beside her grumbling.

"Oh great, don't bother finishing what you've started or anything..."

Smirking, the Mayor scuttles her fingers teasingly up a soft thigh beneath the throw that now covers them both.

"Patience, Miss Swan... The night is still young."

Emma opens her mouth to sark back, but a warm hand swiftly moves to cup her heat beneath the covers they share, and she simply sighs; twisting round slightly as she rests with her back against the headboard to assault the pleasing column of the brunette's throat as the latter moves her fingers lazily.

News switches to weather, which switches to sitcoms, which switches to gameshows, which switches to cartoons, which switches to-

"- _Oh_..."

The Mayor's eyes widen as a young redhead on the screen grins wickedly and begins shucking up the tiny white bra she wears.

Fingers swiftly cover her nipples.

Painted red lips pull back as white teeth flash with a high pitched giggle.

A wink.

And the procedure is repeated.

"What...?"

Choked. Muttered. Low.

Glancing from the idiotic specimen prancing around on screen to the enthralled Mayor, Emma laughs softly; the noise serving to rip Regina's attention from the screen and onto her.

"... Why does she keep doing the same thing over and over?"

"You're bummed she's not flashing what she's hiding?"

"... It's strange..."

"It's pay to view."

"... I'm sorry?"

"It's, uh... It's a porn channel... It's basically-"

"-I _know_ what pornography is... Depicted sex for pleasure..."

"... Right. Well that's what this is, but you have to give them your card details to watch the real show."

"... Curious."

Cheeks reddening slightly, Emma shrugs as the brunette continues to surf through what the idiot box has to offer. The next few channels follow on in a similar vein, but the Queen stops with a frown as she comes to the forth sleazy offering.

A young blonde in a minuscule black and white striped bra and panties set- the parody of an old school inmate- shivers with what is clearly anticipation rather than fear as an equally scantily clad 'warden' drags a stiff, black police baton salaciously up a pale skinny thigh.

When Regina swallows, it's audible.

"... This... When you...When you were..."

Attention flickering from the screen to the Mayor, the blonde raises an eyebrow and adopts a hushed tone.

"In jail?"

"Mm."

"You want to know about that?"

"...Emma. I-"

"-If it was like this?"

"Well...I-"

"-You don't. You don't want to know... I mean... Can you even so much as _comprehend_ what it was like? What it was like to be thrown into a fucking cell and be stripped down to nothing but the scrap of your underwear only to stand there clutching the bars, bent over, as the guard watched, inspected, and planned..."

"I-"

"-To file into the showers that first evening with your mind reeling and head racing, only to be slammed up against the wall... A prison bitch... Countless fingers from unknown hands dragging and tracing your most intimate regions..."

Regina blinks; both horrified and unbelievably turned on by the blonde's hoarse confession.

"...Emma..."

Fingers moving with greater purpose and yet heightened care beneath cheap running shorts.

"And then to be pushed down... Your face rubbed into the dirt outside in the yard, only to beg and cry to be let go... Only to feel a tongue-"

Dark eyes widen comically as the Sheriff disingtergrates into a fit of throaty laughter.

Finally understanding the tangible tension to be nothing more than Emma fucking with her, the Mayor slaps at her thigh furiously.

"-You're _playing_ with me!"

"... Not yet..."

A positively evil grin as the blonde begins climbing into the darker woman's lap, but the latter proceeds to shove the Sheirff away until she leans back at arm's length.

"Emma... That was _entirely_ inappropriate! You had me believing-"

"-Well, whatever I had you _believing_ ; you were clearly behind the fact!"

"... I-"

"-I'm sorry."

"... Forgiven...But-"

"-But... Do you really want to know?"

"... What do you mean?"

"There are ways things work in prison... Do you want to know?"

"... I'm intrigued... Would you... Would you really tell me?"

"No... But I'll _show_ you..."

"... I-"

"-Do you trust me?"

"... Yes."

"Good."

"... So-"

"-Hold out your hand."


	91. Chapter 91

_"-Hold out your hand."_

Regina does as she's told with a caution that speaks not of a nervousness or apprehension _of_ the blonde, but rather a nervousness _for_ her. She is crucially aware that- provided Emma isn't messing around this time- this is quite a major marker in their relationship, and as such she resolves to let the younger woman direct this curious exchange entirely.

That said, she suffers a moment's pause, as, with the Sheriff's curious request she wonders if Emma plans to cuff her. The thought has an explicit effect on the delicate lace that covers her sex, but she is also wary. She has seen firsthand the effect those simple silver bracelets can have on the blonde; her reaction alarming enough when she had played victim in the brunette's own study at the very beginning of their sordid tryst, but the damage to her wrists and state of mind following her ordeal with Gold now leave the Queen debating whether she should speak up and opt out. She wants to know what Emma has in store- and the anticipation of finding out has her clenching her legs together in an attempt to appease the wanton ache the Sheriff is so adept at invoking within her- but she refuses to let the blonde find herself in a position where she feels she has to deliver something she is uncomfortable with just for the sake of making good on her flippant teasing.

She appreciates Emma's trust.

But not her occasional stupidity.

It appears her apprehension is unfounded however, as the blonde proceeds to simply take a hold of her wrist before frowning and looking around the room, making a pensive noise with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Seeming to solve whatever conundrum she faces, she mutters that the Mayor should stay put, and hops from the bed. Proceeding to pluck the brunette's travel bag from the rickety dresser in the corner, she offers the darker woman a brief glance for approval before delving through the clothes and items within; Regina clenching her jaw as neatly folded garments are rummaged through carelessly.

She says nothing.

She wants to know where this is all going, and there is something about the way the harsh, unflattering light of the- now muted- depravity on screen flickers over slim, pale limbs and makes the younger woman's hair glow almost white that leaves her willing to forgive this small annoyance.

_Ah, but then, if it came to it, I suppose I would forgive the woman almost anything._

"What do you need, dear?"

But Emma glances up with a small smile that sends a shiver down the brunette's spine; a slight shake of her head silencing the Mayor instantly.

Between her fingers, the younger woman plays with the silken fabric of a pretty neck-scarf; not something the Queen has packed to wear, but rather an item gifted to her by Henry several years ago which she has since kept neatly tied around the handle of her toiletries bag. As the blonde makes her way back to the bed, there is something unquestionably predatory in the way she moves, and the brunette's excitement heightens almost unbearably as lean muscle ripples tantalizingly; Emma seeming to stretch out and loosen her limbs as she walks as though readying for a curiously athletic endeavor.

Perching back onto the sagging mattress, the blonde takes Regina's hand gently in hers to bring it up to hover between them, before changing her grip so that she clutches the brunette's slim wrist. She moves her arm slightly to coax the darker woman into reciprocating the gesture, but doesn't speak.

"What are you-"

But the Queen hushes without request. The look Emma offers her causes her to shift just a little so that the heel of her foot presses gently against her throbbing center, as intoxicating green studies her dangerously; only the thinnest rim of emerald visible around blown pupils, black with a lustful darkness that has the Mayor thinking suddenly on the flashing silver of the letter opener in the pot on her desk back home.

Biting her lip in a way for which she knows she has the Sheriff entirely to blame, she watches intently as the younger woman laces the silken scarf around their entwined hands; winding a complex pattern with surprisingly dexterous ease. When she completes working the colorful fabric around slender wrists, Emma leans forward to tie the loose ends together with the aid of her teeth; hot breath ghosting gently over soft skin.

Unable to help herself, the brunette leans forwards to brush her lips against the blonde's. The Sheriff allows her to do so for the briefest of moments before pulling back to regard her levelly; her expression unusually cold.

"Try to get free."

Brow furrowing slightly, Regina does as she's told, pulling at their shared restraint tentatively at first, before giving it a much harder yank which serves to bring the younger woman falling into her.

She expects a laugh- Emma always so quick to find amusement in such small slip ups- but she doesn't get one.

Instead, she gets a slow smile, and she swiftly forces herself to keep from begging the Sheriff to just hurry up and fuck her already; the lace between her thighs sordidly damp due to this curious little scenario.

"Now, I guess I'm ad-libbing a bit here, but I can speak only for myself when I say neither of us is prepared to shiv the other?"

"... Are you teasing again?"

"Not yet... No, the way this _should_ work is that each of us would have a weapon in her free hand... No running, limited sneaky tricks, but an undeniably simple fight until one of us would end up incapacitated."

"... Charming."

" _Please_ rephrase."

A low chuckle.

" _Delightful_ , dear... However, _as_ you and I are not about to fight it out to a bloody finish, _nor_ use weaponry on each other, what do you propose we do? As right now, much as I love you, I feel as though we are simply being forced to remain unnecessarily close to one another... And if we _are_ to be forced into such close quarters, I really feel you would benefit greatly from me being able to use _both_ of my hands..."

The brunette sniffs, but the arrogance in her tone falters slightly. She doesn't truly believe the blonde will have tied them up the way she has merely to pull another bluff.

Again with that slow smile, and suddenly she _knows_ this isn't a case of simply holding hands for story time.

"Oh, but the greatest travesties come at their perportrator's _hands_..."

"...In English?"

"I never _said_ we wouldn't use weapons."

Smirking at the look of irritable incomprehension the Mayor offers her, the Sheriff wiggles the fingers of her free hand pointedly.

"Right... So your 'showing me the ways of prison' is that fun was generally had one-handed? I understand the similarity to your little weapons tale, but-"

"- _Ah!_ "

Emma admonishes harshly, moving in so that she kneels with her face close enough to the brunette's to kiss. To bite.

"Stop. You wanted to know, and I'm going to show you-"

"-Yes, but-"

"-Shut up, and tell me two things. No rambling."

"You do _not_ tell me to shut-"

"- _Regina!_ "

"... Go on..."

"Do you trust me?"

"I told you so only moments ago. You-"

"-Do you understand that what you've asked for is a _scenario_... You're not the Queen for this, understand?"

"...Yes... Are you... Are you going to hurt me?"

The brunette's inquiry is quiet, her expression apprehensive, but the fingers of her free hand play over the smooth skin of the younger woman's bare thigh in a teasing fashion.

"... I won't permanently or visibly mark you."

"... Wait... Does that mean-"

But her words give way to a yelp as the Sheriff gives a vicious yank of her wrist and pulls the Mayor- stumbling- to her feet; the brunette barely managing to keep herself from falling due to her shock at this sudden movement. Crying out a little louder as she is shoved brutally against the wall, dark eyes widen as the blonde hisses cruelly into her ear.

"-Maybe."

And with that, skilled fingers begin ripping at her negligee forcefully; pushing soft silk up the Mayor's shivering frame as the latter attempts to push the younger woman off of her.

And _now_ she understands the power of the restraint.

Groaning as the Sheriff's mouth finds her throat, she closes her eyes as a slim thigh wedges itself dominantly between her legs; and she grinds against proffered bare flesh wantonly. The fury with which Emma touches her and grabs at her is something she has never experienced, but she finds that any fear the situation should plausibly cause her is greatly subdued by the familiar scent of honey that lingers in thick curls. By the light tickle of the younger woman's longer necklace ghosting her flesh in a way she has come to know so well. By the telling line of the blonde's scar as she runs her own fingers up beneath flimsy cotton.

The elbow of her bound hand is pinned ruthlessly against peeling wallpaper, and she is unsurprised when she is unable to push back as she has allowed her fingers to tour hard lines of lean muscle often enough to have an idea of the Sheriff's strength.

Slim hips crash into hers and she is thankful that it is Emma's deserted room on the other side of the wall, as the mundane pictures hanging a metre beside the two of them shake warningly in their frames.

Strong fingers battle deftly beneath dripping lace and enter her without warning.

She is certain that Emma only does so as the debauched wetness causing a pale thigh to glisten where it had been pushed up against her aching centre had been a give-away that she was more than ready.

_Almost certain._

"Oh, g-god, oh-"

The pace with which the blonde teases her reminds her of her own antics back in the jail cell, and she is sure that at any other time she would appreciate the irony of the fact, but right now she is unable to think on anything but the way slim fingers slide easily between her slick folds while the younger woman's thumb circles her need ruthlessly.

Shakily moving her own free hand between them to slip beneath the waistband of cheap shorts, she emits a choked cry as the act is instantly reprimanded with a snarl and she is jerked roughy round- some subconscious part of her mind equating her current status to that of a rag doll- so that her hips make brutal contact with the wall and a bolt of pain from her left arm causes her to cry out as this new position has the appendage bent at an uncomfortable angle.

"Shut up-"

_-Bitch!_

But the Sheriff doesn't say it; dimly aware through the haze of her adrenaline that however crass their current game may be, Regina will take the word to heart.

And she doesn't want that.

"-Learn your place!"

A predictable snarl from perfect lips at the notion.

Pale fingers find their way easily between sun-kissed thighs to continue with their delicious torture and the Mayor desists baring her teeth angrily in favour of biting her lip; by now unable to control the steady moans that quietly escape her throat despite being beautifully muffled.

True, her arm still aches, but as she begins rocking back to meet Emma's ruthless assault, the heat of the younger woman's sharp hipbone pressed into the soft flesh above her ass serves to take her mind off such annoyances.

"Please..."

Tongue playing across the salted crest of the Mayor's shoulder, the blonde frowns. Part of her- and it is a part she isn't particularly fond of, but it is also the part that is orchestrating this little game- aches to yank at pretty, dark locks and bite down at the vulnerable skin of the darker woman's throat.

To ask just who in the hell she thinks she is asking for favours; doesn't she know the rules?!

But another part of her- and she is sure that _this_ part has won out more and more ever since falling for the intoxicating brunette- is aware not just of how unlikely it would be that Regina would find such sharp aggression at her expense a turn on, but is also dumbfounded that the Queen should be using such a term at all.

It is not the _first_ time... But for the Mayor to use the word in such a vulnerable state is a rarity Emma is able to acknowledge, despite the red-tinged violence that currently clouds her vision.

_I've still won... Technically..._

Grinning, she allows herself one last indulgence in their current role-play; sinking her teeth cruelly into flawless flesh to elicit a crystal clear scream from the brunette, before speeding up her ministrations to the darker woman's sex to a vigorous fucking that has her breaking out into a light sweat as the backs of beautifully toned thighs tremble tellingly against her own.

"Emma!... I can't!..."

And, just like in the beginning, when the brunette had acted as a relief when the Sheriff's legs had threatened to give way and cause her _real_ pain in her vulnerable position at the cuffs' mercy, so now the blonde moves swiftly forwards and uses her bodyweight to keep the Queen pinned against the wall as she crumbles; careful to keep Regina from sagging into the awkward pull of the restraint.

"Shh... Don't move..."

The Mayor nods weakly; almost sitting in the blonde's lap as Emma keeps her thigh firmly wedged between spent legs.

"Damn..."

Fiddling with the tight bindings of the scarf with a frown, the Sheriff becomes quickly frustrated as she struggles to find any form of give while her current stance begins to take its toll.

"Here..."

A haze of purple smoke and the scarf unravels itself; the blonde letting out a small cry of her own.

"Shit... I forgot you could do that..."

Chuckling hoarsely, Regina finds purchase of the wall and pushes herself up, rubbing at the recently released flesh of her wrist tenderly before turning to regard the younger woman with an unreadable expression.

"...That was..."

Unable to find the right words she extends her hand and simply leads Emma towards the bed; the Sheriff looking suddenly shy now that the moment has passed.

"...How much of what you just showed me actually happened?"

Pushing gently at the blonde's shoulder, she waits for her to lie down before clambering exhaustedly on top of her.

"I... I told you... We were changing up the rules... The real way of doing that one of us would have got hurt..."

"I'm not _asking_ about the 'real' way... I'm asking how much of what just happened was a reenactment of back then?"

"...Does it matter?"

A raised brow and a suddenly clinical expression, and the brunette sighs, finding delicate lips with her own and letting her fingers wander down beneath the waistband of the Sheriff's shorts to finally allow her to tease the soft flesh she knows so intimately well.

"No... Not if you don't want it to..."

"... It wasn't like you think... You weren't... You weren't 'me' just now."

"...No?"

"No."

"Okay?"

"You...You're maybe the first person I've ever gone up against and found myself in the secondary position..."

"... You were playing yourself... How you were...?"

"Yes... But... It would have ended differently... Back then, I mean."

"Ah. No magic to help with that tricky knot-"

"-I wouldn't have caught you."

"... I know."

"... Look... Don't think-"

"-I don't. I don't think anything about back then that you don't want me to think... But thank you."

"You had fun?"

"Yes... But, I was thanking you for catching me."

"Well... Thank you for making me need to do so."


	92. Chapter 92

When she wakes up, the Queen frowns as she keeps her eyes stubbornly closed; her internal clock nigh on impeccable and telling her that the skies outside will still be hazy with the bloodied tinge of dawn.

So then, what has awoken her?

Moving ever so slightly, she becomes aware of a dull cramp in her left thigh and an ache in her neck due to being cricked at an odd angle.

That, and the heat.

She is uncommonly warm.

Stretching out a little more, her brow furrows deeper when she realises that her cheek seems to be pressed against something hard and sharp, while the top of her head brushes against some sort of barrier. Moving the fingers that rest close to her face in a tentative manner, she plays with her soft locks idly as she continues to toe the line between dreaming and reality.

She winds soft silk around her fingers.

...But then... _That's_ not right...

_When was the last time I was able to play with my hair in such a way?_

Lashes fluttering drowsily open, she blinks in surprise as her sudden sneaking suspicion is confirmed.

She has _indeed_ spent the remainder of the night slumbering, lain out over the Sheriff's- rather uncomfortably- slender frame.

The reality of her discovery surprises her. Other than the evening she had spent battling her drunken stupor, it has been a long time since she has fallen asleep in someone's arms; Daniel being the only other person with whom she would have felt comfortable in doing so.

For herself it is a rarity, but for Emma... She wouldn't think it harsh to admit that this is not a scenario in which she would have seen the blonde partaking.

Moving carefully, she raises her head as far as her current position will allow and observes delicate lids flickering curiously with REM sleep.

She fiddles with golden curls absently-mindedly, thinking on the younger woman's words the previous evening.

She had caught her.

And she had expressed a gratitude for feeling the need- the _want_ \- to do so.

"You're welcome, dear."

The words are barely audible; the Mayor silenced by the fact that she should be thanking the blonde for the exact same thing... But then, Emma knows this well enough.

As it is, they had left the words uttered from pale, pink lips lingering between them as the brunette had lowered her jaw- exhausted- to rest comfortably at the younger woman's sternum, Emma's pale fingers stroking her spine lightly, while her own hand-

...

Her serene expression as she studies the Sheriff's fine features breaks into a smirk as she looks down to where her right hand still rests with the fingers slipped beneath cheap cotton; the tips pressing gently against the lowest ridge of a sharp hipbone.

Placing a soft kiss on the delicate skin of the blonde's sternum, she moves herself carefully down the bed; ignoring the protest of her limbs as she rouses them from their uneasy resting place.

Dusky lashes flutter, but nothing more.

She pushes at the Sheriff's legs ever so slightly to allow enough space for her to kneel in the cradle of skinny thighs, and studies Emma for a moment longer; sharp features so curiously tranquil in contrast to the fire that had ignited them during their sordid activities.

She decides she doesn't possess a state in which she prefers the blonde.

She enjoys them all.

Well...

 _There is_ one _way in which you are_ easily _the most... Fun..._

Smiling, she dips her index fingers gently into the waistband of the younger woman's shorts and proceeds to edge them stealthily down long, slim legs; struggling to slip them out from beneath the swell of her ass, but managing in the end with a little cautious exertion.

Mouth twitching with amusement as she catches the beginnings of a confused frown alight pale features- lashes still quivering with whatever fantasy lies behind them- she slowly works to spread the blonde's thighs just a little further before lowering herself and finding a comfortable position.

She begins slowly; running her tongue gently over velvet skin to provide a little moisture, her fingers playing out feather-light patterns on the soft flesh of the Sheriff's inner thighs.

A slight shift in position from the blonde as her brow furrows a little more.

Dipping a little deeper, the brunette increases the impact of her affections; taking delicate flesh between her lips and working her hands ever higher.

A low, shuddered breath.

Focusing her attention more directly on the areas the Sheriff most needs it, Regina smiles into glistening folds as the muscles of slim legs begin to twitch tellingly.

A soft sound dampened by clamped lips, and Emma closes her legs ever so slightly; her knees cradling the Mayor's shoulders as the darker woman continues to work her mouth sweetly; delicately cleaning the Sheriff of her own oblivious excitement.

"Good morning to you, too..."

Emma sarks, rubbing at her eyes sleepily before pushing herself up onto her elbows to regard the Queen with an unconvincingly bemused expression.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Pretty much since you decided to non consensually strip me of my shorts."

"You have complaints on the matter?"

"... It was a little cold."

A grin, and the rolling of beautifully dark eyes in return.

"I believe I took care of that, did I not?"

A raised brow, and the Mayor sighs; giving in to the blonde's jesting and lowering her head once more to blow pointedly over soft flesh.

She smirks as Emma shudders.

"You did..."

A smile and then the slow descent into a frown, and Regina furrows her own brow in confusion.

"...Emma?"

Leaning forward, the younger woman pulls at the brunette so that she lies once more between taut limbs; the Queen's hip pressed up against her newly exposed flesh.

"It's still there..."

The blonde mutters, running her finger gently over the soft skin of the Mayor's shoulder. The flesh there is slightly tender, and Regina slowly recalls the sharp pain of the Sheriff's brutal bite that had preceded her undoing.

"How obvious?"

"Not very... Just a mark... It will fade in a day or two... I'm... I'm sorry..."

Glancing down at the faint bruises that litter the younger woman's own skin as a previous result of their love making, Regina sighs, lowering her mouth to alabaster flesh at the soft swell of the Sheriff's left breast, and biting down with measured force. Pulling back, she watches as angry red fades to leave just the darker imprint of her teeth.

"Don't be. As you said; I wasn't the Queen."

"You'll always be the Queen."

"... You're rather poetic of late, Sheriff... Are you ill?"

She expects a rolling of glittering green and a caustic remark, but Emma merely frowns, regarding her pensively as she remains cradled between pale legs.

"...No. I just... I just keep thinking... I like you an awful lot..."

Ignoring the awkward blush that creeps across high cheekbones, the brunette simply agrees.

"I'm glad, as I like you a lot also... But you know this... As I know that you like me."

"... I didn't want you to come at first. I thought it would be best for Gold and I to work things out alone so that I knew you were safe in Storybrooke... But I'm.. I'm glad you came."

"You are?"

"It's... It's nice having you here."

The Mayor frowns; touched by Emma's words, but a little confused by them. The blonde is not one to favour such vulnerable honesty, and she imagines there is a reason behind her confession.

"... How so?"

"I dunno... I just have this bad feeling, I guess."

The Sheriff shrugs, and her expression switches flawlessly from pensive to stoically sarcastic, but the brunette isn't going to let such things slide.

"A bad feeling? What about?"

"I don't know... About this whole 'deal' thing I guess..."

"You're scare-... Worried about Gold?"

"No, not Gold."

"Then...?"

"Gold I _know_ , and I can somewhat handle... Who's to say his son's the same?"

"You're nervous of Baelfire?"

"... I guess... I guess it's just not being particularly fond of people I don't know on pure principle... But, yeah, I just..."

"... You have a bad feeling."

"Yeah."

"Don't. It will be fine."

"... You've changed your tune."

"And you've changed yours! Emma, there's a _reason_ I came with you on this trip."

"My raw, animal magnetism?"

"... If you wish to call it that, then that provides an advantage to my having accompanied you, yes... But, no. I'm here to help you do this deed for Gold. For Rumplestiltskin. You and I... We're quite a force to be reckoned with, dear... It will be fine. The powers of the Dark One are not genetic. Baelfire will most likely be of no interest nor trouble to either of us."

"Okay... Cool."

"If you say so, dear. Now come; I have little wish for Gold to go knocking for you, only to come searching to find myself wedged where I currently lie."


	93. Chapter 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I will ask that you're gentle with me for this chapter. I had some huge issues writing this, and I'm still not 100% sure on the end result. It includes a lot of things I really wanted to add in and that I feel are important issues to be addressed- especially on Emma's behalf- but I hope it doesn't drag too much. At first, reading it back when I got to about the 1K word mark, I kind of wished I'd skipped this altogether as I think some of the next chapters will be fairly heavy also, but, now that it's completed, I am glad I found somewhere to slot these bits and pieces in. If you disagree; constructive feedback is always greatly appreciated, but, not to sound like a little bitch, please please, please don't review with simply 'this is boring' etc... At least let me know what didn't work for you, as I really do put a lot of time into this fic. Thanks... :)

When Gold enters the dowdy breakfast hall offered up by the motel, he is unsurprised to find that the two women have already taken up a table at the far side of the room, close to a rather murky window. It is much later than he would ordinarily have breakfast- not to mention a strong cup of coffee- but he hadn't expected the others to be quite so eager. That Regina is an early riser, he has no doubt, but he has a strong suspicion that Emma might be less inclined to greet the day with the rising of the sun, and so had simply remained lying on his back and staring at the ceiling for a while to accommodate this.

Not that he imagines either woman will have woken up alone.

It is a peculiar thought to him still, but not one he deems appropriate to muse on too deeply. He may be a man of many flaws, but he is far from uncouth, and while the resultant bond between the two women that currently sit in quiet conversation is of great interest to him, the carnal aspect to their relationship is something he deems private and none of his concern.

Making his way over, he slips into the empty seat beside the brunette, despite it being a little more awkward to get to than the chair next to the Sheriff.

"Good morning."

A low reciprocal mutter from the Queen and a polite nod from the blonde.

A waitress comes hurrying over to take his order, and he asks for coffee; the steaming heap of cooked breakfast foods that sits before the Sheriff making his stomach churn. It would appear Regina is of a similar opinion as she nurses a simple plate of toast.

"Tell me, dearie, is there anything you _won't_ eat?"

The old pawnbroker inquires silkily of the blonde as she swipes her finger through a smear of alarmingly neon yolk with a curious display of well-practiced grace. Despite her distaste for the little imp, Regina raises an eyebrow in mild amusement; catching the younger woman's eye and offering her a small smirk as the latter rolls her eyes and addresses Gold icily.

"Several things, but as there's no way in _hell_ I'm ever going to be eating anything you cook for me, I don't see why it matters."

The little man balks slightly at the Sheriff's response; Emma hardly the friendliest of people, but the young woman has for the most part always been more or less cordial towards him. For her to snap at him as irritably as she does seems less of a surprise to the brunette however, and the darker woman offers up a hard glance at the blonde.

_She's nervous. Otherwise that plate would be empty by now and she'd have answered you with sarcasm rather than spite._

_You're making her nervous..._

Her sharp look is reciprocated, before Emma sighs and leans back in her chair to regard Gold cooly.

"Look, can we just talk about the task at hand? It's too damn early for small talk."

He nods and negates to offer up a snide comment that nine thirty is hardly all that _early_ for a woman supposedly working a full time job. He supposes, in fairness to the Sheriff, she is rarely forced to converse with anybody but her housemate- mother- or the waitress until about noon, at which point he has visited the Station enough times to know that the one cup of coffee and the lack of sugar in the breakfast feast before her are a mediocre replacement for extra large mochas and cavity-inducing sweet pastries.

"Very well."

"So, what's the deal here? We're in New York like you wanted... What now? Because I know you think I have this whole tracking thing down, but as I told you before, I literally don't know your kid from Adam. Unless he's walking around screaming 'magic', dressed in wizard's robes and still going by the name of Baelfire, we have a problem... And even if he _is_ doing all those things, this is _New York!_ He'd be lucky to achieve more than a funny look."

"In my room, I have something of Bae's. A shawl. I have ways of tracking the owner, Miss Swan, but once that has been accomplished, I lack the prowess of putting knowledge into action in this particular scenario. Finding people is what you do, you just need to be told where to look."

"Right, so when we find this guy that you let fall through a porthole into another world-"

"-Emma..."

Glancing up at the brunette, the Sheriff thinks momentarily that Regina scolds her for her snide words, but the darker woman simply looks around them pointedly and the blonde understands, carrying on in little more than an irritable whisper.

"-When we find him, what, you think he's gonna come running to you with open arms? You don't think he's going to be _pissed_? What makes you think he's going to want to talk to you- _look_ at you- at all!?"

"That's where _you_ come in, dearie..."

"Me?"

" _I'm_ not going to approach him, Sheriff. You are."

"You're planning to use her as _bait_?"

Dangerously low, but for all the warning that drips from the Queen's lips, it is Emma that leans forwards and hisses with true venom.

"And what the hell makes you think he'll listen to me?"

Looking from the blonde to the Mayor, Gold sighs; knowing there is no possible way he can word what he is fairly certain both women already know without incurring their wrath.

Regina's anger he can deal with.

He taught her, and there is a limit to what she can do to him here.

Emma, he just doesn't want riled up in case she fucks this up.

Unfortunately, such a thing seems inevitable.

"Because when you _try,_ you can be quite charming... And you _will_ try, Miss Swan."

"You had better fucking explain what you mean by _that_..."

Tempestuous anger alights equally stormy green eyes, and Gold lets out a low sigh, having known the younger woman would rise to the bait before waiting for an explanation. It is a tendency that intrigues him in this case; having looked into what the Sheriff's previous job role had entailed. It would seem she is aware of her own appeal well enough to understand it can get her what she wants, and yet, to have this same notion expressed by another is something she is venomously unwilling to hear.

Brutally defensive without cause.

" _All_ I'm asking of you is that you keep him talking long enough to ascertain that it is truly Bae."

"Oh good, because that's how I start _all_ my conversations; 'so, is your father an evil sorcerer perchance? How coincidental! I happen to-"

"-Enough!"

The pawnbroker shouts, and the reaction of the brunette is instantaneous; grabbing at the man's arm as he leans forward to berate the blonde with the flats of his hands crashing down on the table.

"Don't you _dare_ talk to her like that!"

"I am talking to her as though she were a child as that is the way she seems intent on being treated!"

"Gold, you-"

"-Shut up. Both of you. You're making a scene."

Emma hisses through gritted teeth, and the other two take a calming breath as they note several curious eyes upon them.

"Let's just go up to your room and you can do whatever the hell it is you need to do with the kid's shawl and we can get this whole fucking business over with."

She pushes herself from the table as she speaks, and Gold throws a look to Regina who purses her lips and stalks off after the Sheriff. He hangs back a bit as the darker woman taps a sharp beat down the linoleum tiled hallway; aware of where he stands in their current scene.

"Emma..."

"Yeah!?"

"...It's going to be fine, I told you already, I-"

"-Will you just stop fucking fighting my battles for me already? I'm not your child!"

"No... I know... But I came here to-"

"-To what?!"

"Don't. Don't you start having a go at _me_ just because _you're_ feeling nervous!"

"Then quit springing to my defence the whole damn time!"

"... You don't want me to take your side?"

"I don't want you acting like I'm made of fucking glass."

"Fine. I apologise... I had little clue that having someone wishing to defend you would be so upsetting."

The brunette sniffs haughtily, and the Sheriff rolls her eyes before looking swiftly away. At first the Mayor mistakes this gesture as one of annoyance, but the soft sound the younger woman makes is one she recognises easily; however foreign it might still seem coming from Emma.

"Ok, stop, come here. Go on. In."

Taking a firm hold of the blonde's upper arm, Regina steers her briskly towards the door at the end of the hallway on which the small black 'ladies' symbol has been personalised with a pair of white-out breasts without sparing Gold a second glance.

_He can wait. He's waited a good many years, and he can wait a couple of hours more._

Realising the room is divided up into cubicles; the brunette simply locks the main door in her own way, before stalking into the nearest partition and grabbing several sheets of toilet paper. Holding them out to the Sheriff who stands with her arms crossed defensively over her chest and her head bowed, she simply shrugs when the younger woman refuses to take them from her and places them neatly on the counter behind them.

"What on _earth_ has gotten into you?"

Her tone is neutral, bordering on irritable, but it is not due to a remainder of ill feelings towards Emma's stroppy behaviour in the hallway, but rather one of knowing that the absolute _worst_ way to deal with this peculiar scenario would be to coo with concern.

She is awarded with nothing.

Flicking sharply at the pale flesh of the Sheriff's forearm, she tries again.

"Hey... Princess... I'm _talking_ to you...?"

This finally garners her some response, as she makes out a begrudged snort of laughter from beneath the long hair that covers the younger woman's face.

"Shut up, Your Majesty..."

A miserable sniff and the blonde reaches behind her for one of the tissues; cleaning herself up with irritable ruthlessness, and Regina relaxes somewhat as she begins to recognise Emma beneath this new, curious woman.

"Not until you talk to me."

"I'm fine."

"Yes, I can see that by the rosy pink glow to your eyes and the healthy tremble to your lip."

"Regina-"

"-Tell me what's going on..."

"...I'm... Well... I'm a b-itch!"

Fresh tears spill out onto pale cheeks as she chokes out the last word, and the Queen can't help but laugh while she wipes them away swiftly with her thumbs.

"I'm sorry, dear, I shouldn't laugh, it's just forgive me but that is _not_ something about which I would have thought you'd be all that concerned... Not that I'm saying I _agree_ , mind, but... A little ray of sunshine you are _not_!"

"I know... I just... I've spent all this time worrying about Gold, and about whether this guy was going to pose a problem, and I kept feeling so weird about it all and it just didn't properly click why! But... Don't you _see_? This is _wrong_! What Gold wants from us is _wrong_! And I kept getting so pissed because I was just sitting there thinking, like, 'how dare you presume your kid's just going to want you back in his life!'... But, back then I was just _angry._..

I wasn't thinking about what we're doing to _Bae,_ or whatever.

He left that world- your world- because he couldn't fucking stand magic and what it was doing to his father... And now what?... We're just going to go shove his face right back into it!? Forgive me, and maybe this is a completely selfish way to look at it, but... Yes! You want me to say it!? I _hate_ magic! I love you, and I love Mary Margaret, and I'm so... S-so happy I've found my parents... But magic kind of puts a dampener on that! Because it's _also_ the reason that everything went to shit for me!

And this kid... _I_ had no choice, I was a baby! And now the reality of magic has just been thrust at me and I have to deal if I want any part in either my parents', or my gi-... Your life... But this kid; he _actively_ sought to get away from it all! He gave up _everything_ he knew because magic had made his life that fucking terrible! And now I'm endeavouring to push him right back into the thick of it! I... I just... I'm _not_ the nicest person, you're absolutely right, and I'm not self-sacrificing, or even particularly empathetic... Hell, I don't even particularly _like_ most people...But...And I will say this just once more, because I don't like any of this gut spilling bullshit: what happened to me, and what I had to deal with... It _hurt_! It fucking _sucked_!... And I can't be the person to do that to someone else!"

"...You have to..."

The brunette whispers, tears prickling threateningly in her own eyes.

"You...You made a deal, sweetheart... And I'm so, _so_ sorry that you didn't know at the time what that meant... What it meant to make a deal with that man...And _I_ will only say this the once, as I know full well you're awful at this stuff... But I will say it now as I know that I risk probable punishment- and _not_ the desirable kind- should I bring this up some other time:... I _do_ know, Emma... I _do_ know that this is all... That this is unfairly difficult for you... And I wish... Oh, Emma, I truly wish I could tell you what you want to hear. I wish I could tell you that there was some way out of this mess, but I can't! If there was, I wouldn't have come along to _help_ , but I would have persuaded you not to come here at _all-_ "

"-But you _did_ try to!"

"... I know... And hindsight is a wonderful thing. I was scared. Everything happened terribly fast, and I was scared of losing you again and you getting yourself hurt... But that was foolish of me... There is legend that the Dark One can be defeated, but at what cost? I myself know I have too much to lose to find out... I _wish_ I could give you any other explanation than that you have to of this because the man with whom you dealt is called Rumplestiltskin and that makes it so... Something that you could find your own peace with.. But I can't. I tried to stop you from going, but in hindsight, I believe that what you did... That in you seeking the hateful imp out after _everything_ that happened... You carry a certain amount of grace where Gold is concerned... Indeed, he has treated you in a way far better than I had expected him to, particularly as he has now already persuaded you to come with him thus far... Make no mistake, I despise the wretched man, but he is a far better ally than enemy... It bodes well for you that you seem to stand in his favour... But, he _will_ make you do this... You have no choice."

"I-"

"-But Emma... You are a wonderful person... An obnoxious pain in the backside, most certainly... But a wonderful person nonetheless. This _is_ going to be okay... Is it ideal? No... But it's not the end of the world. You have no way of knowing how Baelfire feels about Gold all these years later. I am sure he feels anger, abandonment, maybe even hate... But there could be _good_ that comes of this, too... Whatever happens, it's not your fault- this whole insane business was orchestrated before you were even _born_ for christ's sake- and it doesn't make you a bitch. Yes, you may make things difficult for another person for a while, but you will also finally be free of... Of what _he_ created you for.

You _deserve_ that."

"Thank you..."

Slim arms envelope the Sheriff's slender frame warmly, and there is no sexuality to the gesture, but simply friendship, and the Queen smiles as the younger woman hugs her back firmly.

Pulling away, Regina offers a small smile; pushing back long tangles to inspect the blonde's rather peaky face and rubbing away the last of the tear tracks that glisten at her jaw.

"Come on... Let's get this over and done with."


	94. Chapter 94

By the time they stand knocking for entrance at the pawnbroker's door, Emma has pulled herself together and favours a stoic expression; having first ducked into her own room to scrub at her face and blow her nose.

The brunette had waited patiently outside the bathroom, sat on the Sheriff's unused bed; knowing the blonde well enough to leave her be while sorting herself out. When the younger woman had re-emerged, Regina had been careful to keep her face neutral; so used to the blonde's company and various states of dishevelment that she realises it has been a while since she has witnessed the Sheriff made up.

As it is, now, as they stand waiting to be let in, dark eyes flicker surreptitiously to pale features; Emma's eyes lined neatly with kohl and her lips a curious dark cherry. It is an uncharacteristically 'put together' look, and the darker woman isn't quite sure what to make of it.

She simply allows slim fingers to play gently over the ridge between denim and flesh at the younger woman's lower back beneath the latter's charcoal grey sweater.

"Emma."

Gold offers pleasantly as he pulls open the door, and the brunette is by now used to the fact that the little imp seems set on sparing herself as little attention as possible. Ordinarily this would be a cause of great irritation- such rudeness entirely inappropriate in the face of the Queen- but given the circumstances, she finds herself oddly relieved.

She imagines that if she _were_ to be asked as to her opinions and thoughts on anything to do with this rather shady business, she would have a hard time reigning the acidic hate sure to spill from her lips back in.

"If you would take a seat..."

Gold gestures towards the bed with a sweep of his hand, and watches curiously as both women comply; Regina regarding him caustically, while Emma simply looks past him, her jaw visibly clenched.

_Uh oh..._

The younger woman's sudden deterioration into childish rage over breakfast plagues his mind distressingly, and he is anxious to find out the cause. Up until now, things have been going more or less smoothly; the Sheriff remaining forever civil- apart from her flaunting of the gun- despite their all too recent history in the derelict little flat overlooking his shop. Her quick descent into what had almost seemed to be madness bothers him greatly; worried that the blonde might yet find it within herself to fail him.

To fall at the final hurdle.

"Everything alright, dearie?"

He inquires, taking a seat on a rickety chair over the back of which he has hung up his coat. He doesn't want to push her, and he is well aware that he is skating on thin ice- he doesn't need the Queen's warning glower to tell him this- but he needs to know, and he's willing to risk another blowout on the Sheriff's behalf in order to get to the bottom of things.

"Perfect."

She spits at him; raising her eyes to meet his gaze cooly, and he takes note of her carefully applied makeup and wonders if she has any clue how transparent her mask of blood and midnight really is.

"You're alright to continue, then?"

"Just get on with it."

"... I can't have you mess this up, Emma-"

"-I'm not going to. _You've_ messed this up enough for the both of us... Enough for _all_ of us. I'm not interested in picking up the pieces, Gold, but I'll bring them all together for you if it means you'll just leave us be. I'll find your son... What happens after that is _your_ deal... But when he looks at you the way I can _guarantee_ a kid that's been tossed aside is going to look at you... I hope you'll remember that I told you so... I hope it's what you hear when you find yourself unable to sleep at night... I really do."

The Sheriff growls low, her earlier distress replaced by a cold anger, and, while the brunette recognises the blonde's tone as one she had once so often been privy to- and now prays will never be directed towards her again- Gold feels a brief inkling of disquiet.

She doesn't tell him anything he doesn't already know.

Anything he couldn't figure out himself.

But her husky warning drips from lips that speak not just of predictability, but of knowledge.

Of _experience_.

"I can only do so much, Emma... I can't change the past... Not even _I_ can do that... I can only do my best with what methods I have available to me now, and hope Bae can find it within himself to forgive..."

"Forgive the fact that you _abandoned_ him?"

"... You're rather _cynical_ for a woman whose son has had to-"

"- _No_. Don't you fucking dare-"

"-I suppose it just runs in the family..."

And with this, there is a peculiar gust of air that sends the two women's hair streaming momentarily as if caught by the wind, as the Queen's enraged magic is easily deflected and rendered neutral by the pawnbroker. Looking from furious brown to feral green, he clears his throat and pulls himself together; fully aware that his last words had been loaded with the intent to cut- to hurt- but momentarily without a care as to the blonde's feelings as his own had threatened to run amock on him.

She speaks of what he fears, and he despises her for it.

"... I apologise."

"Don't bother. Just get the fucking shawl."

The little man dips his head in a gesture of consent and moves to where his leather-bound suitcase rests on the room's peeling dresser. As he does so, Emma turns to Regina, offering the darker woman a wary glance.

"You shouldn't have done that..."

Her words are a low whisper, and the brunette is aware in some vague way that she is probably only able to catch them due to her connection with the women who utters them. Frowning, she struggles to keep her patience, imagining the Sheriff refers again to her disapproval of having her battles fought for her.

 _That comment hurt_ both _of us, dear. He is_ our _son. I will not have his mother spoken of in such a way._

Struggling to find the right words to say- refusing to apologise for something she isn't sorry for- she is surprised when a pale hand moves to cover her own.

"Please don't use magic..."

Again that low murmur, and the brunette leans in to catch the very last part.

"...It scares me."

Eyes widening, Regina nods her understanding. The Sheriff may not know much in terms of magic, but she must know that she shares a room with two that possess a great amount of dark power. If Gold had sought to reap revenge rather than render her attack on him useless, things could have gotten very ugly, very quickly.

_It scares me..._

"As it should, dearie... Fear is perhaps the smartest emotion to feel towards such a beautiful curse."

Gold murmurs to himself as he stands with his back to the two women. Removing a large, silken bag from beneath neatly folded clothes, he turns to face his audience and dips a long-fingered hand into its depths to retrieve tattered burgundy.

"This... This was my son's."

There is something defeated and lost in his tone- his voice completely free of his usual lilt and wit- and when he moves to take a seat once again on the chair with the shawl spread loosely over his lap, neither woman speaks, but both lower their eyes; respectful of the moment.

"My Baelfire's..."

Regina looks up, Gold's words little more than a whisper as he looks down at the garment pensively; seeming to be a million miles away. Clearing her throat, she urges him on briskly, but with a tone free from the syrupy contempt she is prone to using when addressing the pawnbroker.

"How does the shawl help us to locate him?"

Seeming to come round from his distant reverie, the little man pulls himself together and speaks neutrally, gesturing to the fabric that lies across his lap as he educates the younger two.

"It is a possession of great value, and it holds enough essence of the owner to be used as a guide. It just needs to be ignited by the wearer."

A flicker of doubt crosses the blonde's face at this, but the old man shakes his head as he runs his fingers reverently over coarse wool, before pulling it carefully over his shoulders.

Archaically dark eyes close, and the women are just able to glimpse the curious glimmer that ripples momentarily through mottled fabric.

"The shawl will lead us..."

"How? By playing a game of getting hotter and colder as we get closer and further away?"

Emma scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

"Precisely."

"... You've got to be shitting me..."


	95. Chapter 95

"This is ridiculous."

The brunette huffs irritably; quickening her pace to match the Sheriff's as Emma stalks a little way behind Gold with her long hair whipping behind her in tangled chaos.

"We've been down this street _twice_ already; I'm pretty sure I could direct other tourists by now! And why on earth is the weather so awfully _cold_ here? And... What... What's that face for?"

She snaps as she catches a small grin touch the blonde's lips to her right.

"The weather's no different here than it is in Storybrooke; it just _is_ cold today... And I know; it's a bitch. I keep thinking we should just take the fucking subway, but if the shawl gets hot or whatever when we're under ground, it doesn't do us much good..."

She shrugs, and the Mayor can't help but think that Emma's sudden descent into laid-back apathy has a hell of a lot to do with the sugared pretzal the younger woman nibbles at from between grease-spotted paper. Rolling her eyes, she pulls her coat closer to her slim frame, eyeing the little man up ahead of them darkly.

"Gold! We've been here before; the scarf isn't working."

"It's a shawl."

The Sheriff mutters beside her, and Regina finds herself inwardly certain that the younger woman is entirely aware of just how contrary she's being. Throwing her a weary glance, she directs her words once more at the Pawnbroker.

"Whatever it is, it's clearly not working."

"Not true, dearie, I just wanted to make sure."

The little man interjects as he comes to a halt and turns to face the two women.

"Make sure of what?"

Emma asks, tossing the last of her sugar-coated treat in a nearby trashcan and dusting off her hands. She moves back to stand beside the brunette, and Gold takes in their stark differences with mild curiosity; absentmindedly marvelling at the fitting beauty of the curse.

"Each time we have passed through this street, the shawl becomes almost hot enough to burn... I needed to be sure, as this whole area gives it a heat, but I am certain this is the place."

A small smile touches the corner of his mouth as he catches the Sheriff look around them nervously, and shakes his head.

"Oh, he's not here, Miss Swan."

"But you just said-"

"-There."

Both women turn to look in the direction in which the little man points with a frown.

"... He's in there?"

Regina asks as she gazes up at the hulking brick of a dilapidated block of apartments on the other side of the street.

"I believe so, yes..."

Gold replies, and there is something strange about his tone which has the darker woman looking swiftly away in distaste; the salted tears on his tongue not something she wishes to endure an accompanying visual to.

"... Ok... So, why do you need me? Why not just go in there yourself?"

The blonde asks; a little irritated by the whole situation, but struggling to keep such feelings at bay as she recognises this moment for the magnitude it holds for the man standing beside her.

"Because, no matter how many years have come to pass; I know my son. I know that if Baelfire greets my intrusion by fleeing, I have very little chance in _this_ world of catching up with him once again. He is unaware, and therefore much like a sitting duck at present, but should he believe I'm searching for him and not want this to be the case... Well... I believe you yourself might know a thing or two not just about finding people, but about not wanting to be _found_ , Sheriff."

"That's rather presumptuous..."

"Not at all... But my assumptions are irrelevant, Miss Swan... That is... Unless I am mistaken in my assumption that you also know a thing or two about running?"

"It's not _me_ that should be running right now..."

"Not true, dearie, for if my son runs... So will you. You will bring him to me, Emma, or the deal still stands. You _will_ bring me my son."

"So, what? I'm supposed to physically _jump_ him and drag him back here?"

The Sheriff growls, looking only a little more perturbed than the darker woman that stands at her side with a face like thunder.

"Oh, don't pretend to find such a request to be impossible, Sheriff; you're not that good of an actress. If needs must, you can do what I'm asking of you, am I right?"

"Gold, you're asking a woman who probably doesn't weigh more than a hundred and thirty pounds when soaking wet to-"

"-I can do it."

"Emma-"

"-Let's just get this over with."

The blonde hisses irritably, but she takes a moment to offer the Mayor a brief thin-lipped smile. Glancing at Gold and ascertaining that the little man looks politely away, she addresses the Queen quietly as she takes a step closer so that they stand companionably shoulder to shoulder.

"Gold seems sure his kid's going to run, and running is something I can do. If the guy doesn't weigh a couple of hundred pounds- which, looking at Gold, I'm allowing myself some hope on that count- I can most likely take him down. I'm not exactly _thrilled_ at the idea of tackling some guy in the middle of Manhattan, but, this is New York, and crazier things have happened. I'm not going to be able to physically _drag_ the guy back here though if he doesn't want me to, so you two are going to have to be ready to come to _me_ if I need you to."

"I'll make sure of it, but-"

"-Enough buts. We bring Bae to Gold, or Gold to Bae... Either way, who cares? So long as it's done and this is over. The two of them can then hash it out, beat each other up, stumble weeping into each others' arms... Again, I don't care. While they do whatever they need to do, we're going to leave them to it and forget this crazy nightmare ever fucking _happened_... We'll go out or something, and I'll show you some of the reasons this city isn't entirely the shit-hole it might seem."

Emma shrugs noncommittally, but her elbow brushes against the brunette's and Regina notes with something akin to hilarity that a faint blush creeps across the younger woman's cheeks even after all this time.

"... Are you going to take me out on a _date_ , Sheriff?"

She murmurs; wary of the pawnbroker's proximity.

"... Call it whatever makes you happy."

The blonde sighs, as though bored, though her lips twitch with a suppressed smile.

The Mayor reacts in kind.

"Then it's a date."

"... I guess it is."

The blonde replies, finally allowing a brief, yet full grin of her own.

Stepping away from Regina, she addresses Gold sternly as all three of them cross the street and close in on the stacked silver buttons of the apartment block's intercom system.

"Fine. You win, Gold. This is it... Which one's Baelfire?"


	96. Chapter 96

"And just how do you propose we decide _which_ flat belongs to Baelfire? Ask the _shawl_ to provide us with some sort of sign, perhaps?"

Regina snipes as the three of them stand shoulder to shoulder, each wearing a frown at the realisation of just how many residences comprise the hulking block of brick that looms above them.

Turning to the Queen with an irritable scowl, the pawnbroker sighs and fingers the handle of his cane with out-of-character nervousness.

"Well, we haven't read all the names yet... I'm sure we can find some sort of sense in a possible alias. I-"

"-It's this one."

The blonde interjects, tapping her nail against one of the uniform plastic plaques.

"How did you-?... There's no name. It's vacant."

"No... There's no name because- as you keep _telling_ us- Baelfire doesn't wish to be found..."

"But how would he have preempted that I would come to find him? He-"

"-Your son ran once, Gold, there's a good chance he's made a habit of it."

"That's a rather _grand_ conclusion to make about-"

"-Look. You wanted my help, remember? I could be wrong. Could be your kid's now going by, let's see here, Tom Storie, and is happily listed in the phone book... But, I don't _think_ so."

"It doesn't hurt to try, Gold..."

Regina offers, and she feels a small wave of warmth as the Sheriff gives her a grateful glance; a welcome change from her previous snarling whenever her side had been taken.

The look Emma offers Gold however, is a little more disconcerting.

"What? What is it? Why the face, dearie?"

"Nothing, it's just... He could be _anyone..._ You _do_ understand that, right? Who _knows_ where he came through? _When_ he came through? He might be an old man by now, we don't _know_. All we know is that he's still alive, or surely the shawl wouldn't guide us... I just... I've told you I don't care what happens with you and your son so long as you leave Regina and I at peace when my debt is paid... But... I was lucky. I searched for my parents for years and- though the situation could _possibly_ be a little less insane- I lucked out, you know? More than I might have hoped for, anyway... I can't ever wish to try and befriend you after... What happened... But I _do_ hope you find what you're looking for..."

"... Nothing can be worse than not _knowing_. You of all people should understand that."

"Of course I do. It wasn't a warning, merely a statement."

"... Thank you... Now... If you please..."

Gold makes a slow gesture towards the blank plaque and rusted call button the Sheriff had pointed out previously; a silent acceptance of her argument that she knows what she's doing.

Nodding, Emma swallows, before depressing the button to emit a shrill buzz.

Then silence.

A cruel, empty, vast fraction of time that is filled with nothing but the pounding of blood in the ears of each of them.

Then...

"Hello?"

Occupied after all.

And a man's voice, so that's definitely a step in the right direction.

Green eyes flickering hesitantly to Gold, the blonde presses the buzzer a second time; her voice wavering slightly.

"...Baelfire?"

* * *

The silence following Emma's tentative utterance is much shorter this time; broken suddenly by the glassy crash of a door somewhere to their left. Turning towards the noise, each spies the thin, distorted shadow of a man cast upon the brick wall of the building beside them as the figure descends the twisted iron steps of a fire escape.

"He's running!"

The brunette breathes, before the three of them take flight and sprint towards the alleyway below the stairs in question.

"Of _course_ he is! _Baelfire?_ What idiocy led you to call him by _that_ name, you stupid-"

"-What _else_ was I supposed to call him?! We know fuck all about him! How would _I_ know what he's calling himself nowadays?!"

"You couldn't have fabricated a story?! Lured him downstairs?!"

"I _did_ lure him down stairs! Just not the _right_ ones!"

The Sheriff snaps over her shoulder, before coming to a skidding halt; dangerously close to running straight into the wire mesh fencing that cordons off the alley from the street. Regina pulls up sharply at her heels, making Gold to be the last to spot the obstacle in their way.

Up above, narrow steps are being made short work of, and when their mark reaches the platform of the second floor, he simply swings himself up over the railing and jumps down to land heavily in the dirt below.

"We can't! We-"

But the darker woman's cry trails off as the blonde springs at the wire fence in front of them and hooks her fingers into its geometrical web to gain leverage.

"I'm on it! You two go round and find a way through without a goddamned fence! This one's got to end up somewhere! Go! _Go!_ "

Her breath comes out in exerted pants, but otherwise she makes quick work of the fence; clambering over the top and springing down onto the other side with surprising agility, before taking off in pursuit of the diminishing footsteps that echo about the brickwork.

Turning to Gold with wide eyes, the brunette barks at him to 'come on' before hurrying down the street in search of a way round to the back of the building; inwardly damning Master Choo and his exquisitely useless shoes.

She finds what they seek half a block down, and by the time she reaches the end of the narrow through-way, she is almost bowled over by the Sheriff who comes streaking past her; Emma dodging her smartly without losing too much ground between herself and the man that sprints up ahead.

"Remember the deal, Swan!"

Gold yells after her, panting; limping in her wake. He comes to a stop, knowing that he has no hope of taking part in the chase, and watches as the Mayor slowly comes to the same conclusion up ahead.

"Damn..."

The darker woman hisses as her breath comes in short, pained gasps. She can blame her heels all she likes for losing her tail on the other two, but she supposes she has always known that if challenged with a physical endeavour, the Sheriff would wipe the floor with her.

Still, she is surprised at the younger woman's speed- not ever having actually witnessed the blonde in full sprint- and she imagines their cause may not be as hopeless as they'd feared.

"And _that_ is why I needed Miss Swan..."

Gold growls as he takes up her side; his awkward gait speaking of pain due to his momentary display of exertion. Regina frowns, rubbing at a stitch in her side.

"Come on, she might need us to help her."

"I'm going as fast as I can... You... You hurry along if you need... Go watch over your lassie, dearie..."

The brunette thins her lips at the vague realisation that- despite his terminology- there is no trace of malice in the little man's words. She imagines that, had it been Emma to hear such encouragement, the younger woman might well have risked a smile or exchange of glance to mark such a moment in time, but she is _not_ Emma, and her vendetta runs true.

"I always will."

Is all she offers, before struggling to find a second wind and running in the direction the blonde had taken.

* * *

"Hey!"

The Sheriff yells out as the asshole that seems to be doing his best to wind her takes a sudden right down an impossibly narrow side street without giving her time to anticipate the move.

Using her own cunning, she makes use of the fact Gold had led them traipsing around the area for so long before closing in on their target, and continues towards the next alley to meet her prey head on.

Her tactic works; her mark focused on outrunning the hellishly fast little bitch snapping at his heels, and thus not noticing the sudden change in the maddening thrum of her footsteps.

It isn't until his vision is obscured by a chaotic waterfall of gold that he understands he's been played; his pursuer having ducked into the shadows at the next small intersection to lay ambush.

The thought is fractured- brief- drowned out by the dull pain of his knees making cruel impact with cracked cobbles as his feet are swept from under him.

A low sound of hurt scuffling to his right has him assuming his assailant's tackle may have been a little ill-practiced, as the blonde skids down onto the uneven stones herself.

"Mother fucker..."

An irritable, pained grunt, but pale hands- bloodied at the palms like a robin's breast- brush swiftly over dark denim in a business-like fashion, and the curious young woman is up on her feet again, moving towards him lest he attempt to take flight once more.

" _Seriously_? You couldn't have at least waited to see if I had something _interesting_ to tell you? I mean, shit, you-"

But her breathless scolding trails off as green eyes widen with hateful recognition that matches the fallen man's own at the familiar cadences of her voice.

"... _Emma?!_ "

"...No."


	97. Chapter 97

_"...Emma?!"_

_"...No."_

The blonde's response is little more than a choked growl, but this has nothing to do with her recent display of exertion.

The man on the floor seems not to hear her anyway- or, if he does, he takes no notice of her negatory answer- but simply stares up at the woman standing over him with a comically dropped jaw.

At least... It _would_ be comical... If not for the situation.

Gathering himself and swallowing thickly, Bae pushes himself slowly to his feet, wincing; whether at the sharp bite of pain his knees offer up in protest, or at the hazy chaos of memories threatening to wash over him, he is unsure.

"Emma..."

She is older, and there is a gritty, 'hard' look to her once sunny features that sets him on edge, but it's her.

There's no question.

_She did it._

_The wooden man was right..._

_She broke the curse..._

_How else would she know your name?..._ That _name...?_

"Oh my... Oh my god! Emma! I... I thought... Shit..."

Words tumble haphazardly from his lips which seem suddenly very dry as emotion bests him in his internal battle for self composure, and he stumbles towards the blonde with his hands held out with the palms displayed up towards her curiously, causing green eyes to flash briefly down on the crimson smears that muddy the flesh there to match her own markings from their fall.

"I... It's really _you_! I... You... Emma..."

Garbled nonsense, and he supposes he plans to embrace her- at least, his body seems to be leading him into the act of doing so- but it is a clumsy move; the elements of his brain responsible for simple motor functions perhaps preoccupied with the insanity of his current predicament.

He is confused.

He is elated.

He is struck by a sudden feeling of fondness that seems to hurt in its intensity.

He is bewildered.

He is home.

"I can't believe it... It's you, it's really you! I thought I'd never see you again! I thought you-"

But his nonsensical serenade is cut short as his vision is suddenly impaired with curious white spots as a blinding pain shoots through the left side of his face; the Sheriff's knuckles catching the tender underside of his jaw and sending him staggering backwards into the rough brick of the buildings that play their backdrop.

"Em-"

But this time the pain is sharper- wetter- and he doesn't need a to be a doctor to know that the hideous crunching sound his nose makes as her palm thrusts upwards with cruel skill is the result of cartilage giving up the fight.

"Stop!"

He neither pleads, nor exudes anger; he is too overwhelmed with shock and confusion to offer the young woman that brings her knee up with a vicious jerk that threatens to have him spill his breakfast either of these more logical reactions.

A hard kick to the shins ignites pain, but carries less finesse than her previous methods of assault.

A furious push of bloodied hands against his chest speaks of rage, but no skill.

Dimly aware that this is his window to bring a halt to the blonde's venomous beating, he takes a hold of her upper arms and pushes her away clumsily, but with enough force to cause her to stumble slightly and offer a predatory flash of her teeth.

A similar glint in her eyes tells him she will not be so easily deterred.

She comes at him again and he pushes her back once more, this time without taking the time to strive for purchase, but simply throwing his own palms against her; catching her low in the stomach and causing her to let out a high whimper that juxtaposes the heavy swing of her fist to the side of his head.

"Stop!"

_Yes! Stop! Oh god, stop!_

He is entirely in agreement, but is momentarily confused as to whether the words come from his own lips.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

_No... Not me._

No. A woman's voice. Some innocent bystander coming to his aid in this most peculiar and belated of lover's tiffs.

"Hey!"

Slim arms encased in expensive black wool circle the blonde's waist, and Bae opens his mouth to tell the pretty brunette keen on playing good samaritan that to do such a thing to Emma Swan is most certainly not a good idea.

"Emma!"

_Wait... What? She knows her?_

Rich silk from sultry velvet, and the young man bleeding against the wall frowns as, instead of coming to his rescue, the darker woman simply wrestles the frantic blonde behind her before baring down on him herself.

"What did you do to her!? What-"

"-What is going on?"

And this voice he _does_ recognise, and it sends a shiver through him unlike any that he has felt since he was just a small boy.

Gold limps into view with his eyes glittering dangerously; taking in the snarling Queen, the trembling Sheriff and the bloodied young man that slouches defeated against age-cracked brickwork.

There are a great many years that have passed on between them, but he recognises his boy without a shadow of a doubt. Something in the way he stands, the way his mouth falls, the way he has yet to strike back against the insane little bitch whose hands carry blood that is not entirely her own.

"Bae..."

It is a whisper as he moves in closer towards his son, but when he comes level with the women that brought him here, he turns with a swiftness both startling and obscure given his seemingly infirm state.

"What have you _done_?!"

He spits at the blonde; his weathered face ruddy with terrible rage.

_This was your plan? Your vengeance? Your way of making me pay for what I did to you back in that room?!_

It surprises him- having honestly believed more from the Swan woman than such a low blow- but it is the only reason he can imagine she would have for her attack on the shocked brunet surveying the three of them with amounting horror.

"You foolish little girl!"

When he lifts his hand, Regina is quick to counteract whatever punishment he might mean to bestow on the younger woman, but he is wise in the ways of love-struck stupidity, and the hard thrust of power he sends out hits the Queen rather than the blonde; sending her sprawling onto the uneven cobbles with a surprised cry.

Emma snarls at him, making to hurry towards the darker woman to check on her wellbeing, before the pawnbroker intercepts her easily; moving with that curious grace once more to have her tripping slightly in an endeavour to dodge round him, and backing her up against the wall.

He is furious at what she has tried to pull, but regardless of his power, he has spent twenty-eight years enslaved within a body inept to do this particular form of bidding, and when he rounds on her to pay her her punishment, the hard grip and swipe of his cane seems entirely instinctual.

Time seems to take on a peculiar new meaning- becoming cruelly slow and each small movement lasting long enough to drink in and analyse- and the Sheriff's eyes widen fearfully before she brings a forearm across her face and shies back with her lashes clamped shut and jaw clenched in anticipation, as the hard shaft of the little man's cane catches the light of the hazy winter sun that does a poor job of penetrating the little alley in which they play out this hateful tableaux.

" _No!_ Don't hurt her!"

Gold frowns as he brings down the polished wood at a peculiar angle due to his confusion at those words.

_No. Not the words... The voice used to speak them..._

For it is not the brunette that cries out- although she _does_ scream at the blonde to 'get down' only a fraction of a second later from her own pained position on the floor- but his son's; and when he is pulled roughly back by the shoulders, he drops the cane in surprise.

The sound of wood clattering down on rain-washed cobbles seems to bring its listeners back to the world of reason.

Gold blinks down at the silver gleam of his fallen make-shift weapon.

Baelfire breathes heavily and removes his fingers from the scrawny bow of the pawnbroker's shoulders.

Regina lets out a shuddered breath and slowly pushes herself up into a seated position with a wince.

Emma slowly slides down the bricks behind her- her sweater pulling up and catching slightly on the uneven surface- her aching arm still covering her face; her wrist throbbing with black agony from where Gold's rage fell true, but she slowly realises she is otherwise unharmed.

This lucky fate is not immediately obvious to her onlookers, however.

The Queen crawls over fretfully; all grace and poise momentarily forgotten as her dress pants carry a large rip at the knee and her eyes are wide with shock.

It is the man who speaks, however.

"...Emma?"

She lowers her arm slowly, revealing features that are alarmingly pale and bloodless, but baring no injury, as she glances up at the man that speaks her name warily, before moving a little closer to Regina as her heart threatens to hammer straight out from within the confines of her chest.

The brunette reaches to check on the blonde's wrist, while the latter shakes her head irritably and taps away shaking fingers so that she might take a better look at the Queen's leg and asses the damage.

Bae watches on with dazed interest.

Gold watches on with a sudden disquiet... A disquiet he can't quite place his finger on until his son's utterance dawns on him.

Speaking in a hushed tone, his words sresonate between the four of them as though he had announced them through a megaphone; each of them freezing and taking in a shuddered breath.

"... You two _know_ each other..."


	98. Chapter 98

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well... I'm relieved to have this chapter out the way, and, surprisingly, actually really liked writing most of the latter part! I'd worried about this, as, I know from reviews, some of the rest of you did, but I'm really hoping- after almost 100 chapters!- I've done a good enough job of allowing this relationship to progress enough for things to move on. I'd mentioned in a previous A/N- now removed in my editing, whoops- that I'd had some doubts on my chosen storyline for this fic, but, it is what it is, and I now think I like what I've done with it :) I know it might sometimes SEEEEM like I want to shove these ladies into ALL the drama, but, this has become a long fic, and it's something I think is necessary :) I really hope the way they deal with this from now on gathers me some agreement on that case :)
> 
> Also, on a side note, after reading some reviews, I just wanted to express that I find it interesting how many of you want to see more blood on Neal's part :p I'm going to try my absolute best to write this in a way that fits my fic so far, but just wanted to say that I actually really like Neal/Bae as a character in general, as I do with most of them. There's actually only one (possibly two) characters in the whole show I genuinely dislike, but I really try when writing to keep it fair, and I don't think I've touched on this or hopefully given away who, as that was never the point of writing this :) I'm rambling; I'll stop. Please enjoy, and please please please comment! :)

_"You two_ know _each other..."_

Silence follows this simple statement, and Gold has been through enough altercations in his long life to know that this is usually not a positive sign. Looking from his son down to the blonde that kneels over the Mayor with her jaw visibly clenched, he allows his mind to start reeling off possibilities but comes up empty.

He has heard the saying 'it's a small world', and both Bae and Emma have played outsiders to the safe haven of Storybrooke... He supposes for the two of them to have crossed paths is not _entirely_ implausible, but...

"You do?"

Regina speaks now, and she directs her words towards the Sheriff alone; brow furrowing as she strives to obtain some small measure of comprehension over the situation.

"No."

Is all the blonde has to offer, and Baelfire interrupts her with his own bemused frown

"What? Emma... Why-"

"-He must have heard you call me by my name. I don't know him."

But she doubts she's fooling anyone; her tone cold and placid, but the idiot with the bleeding nose commands a kinder audience simply due to the hurt expression her adamant refusal to acknowledge him garners.

_Can't believe people must still fall for that..._

Gold breaks the silence.

"Bae? Do you know her?"

"I..."

The brunet frowns at his father- wishing the little man wouldn't stand so close... Wishing he wasn't here at _all_!- before glancing back down at Emma uneasily.

He hurt her; this he knows.

As to the specifics, he remains unsure, but he knows the part that matters: he is responsible for the blonde's incarceration, and he let her take the fall for something she didn't do.

He'd had no _c_ _hoice_ , mind!

But, then, _she_ wouldn't know this...

After all... He never even wrote her- _couldn't_ write her- sufficing simply to give her the keys to the old crappy car in which they'd met- by now long since reduced to scrap metal, he is sure- and call it quits.

He'd had to.

Pinnoccio had said it was so.

All that aside... He _had_ cared for her, and he is uncomfortable now going against her clear wish to feign lack of familiarity.

"I... Don't know..."

He finishes lamely; thus concluding what they all- by now- already know. Looking down at the blonde for guidance, he is met with no help as she continues to blank him; Emma pushing herself briskly to her feet before pulling up the well-dressed woman that had been sent sprawling onto the cobbles by the pawnbroker.

"I see... Well-"

But Gold is cut short as the Sheriff interrupts him sharply; already turning to leave.

"-Deal's done, Gold. You have your son... Come on, let's go..."

She offers towards the brunette, who in turn opens her mouth in confusion, looking from the pawnbroker to Emma uncertainly.

"Emma... What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"But-"

"-Nothing's going _on,_ Regina. I'm going to go find somewhere that serves decent coffee and get the hell out out of this fucking frigid alleyway. If that counts as something 'going on', then fine, _that's_ what's going on."

Casting a final glance towards the man whose upper lip now bares a drying crust of scarlet, the Mayor hurries after the younger woman with a pained wince at the sting from her grazed knee.

"Now hold on, dearie! You can't just-"

"-Yes! I can!"

The blonde turns round to shout at Gold, and Regina stops in her tracks in alarm at the ferocity that dances in the Sheriff's eyes. It is the anger she has been waiting for from Emma, but now that it's here, she is a little disconcerted; feeling she is missing a very large chunk of the puzzle, and not liking this predicament one little bit.

"Emma, please come back..."

The man speaks now, and the Mayor's dark tresses glisten as she whips her head around to look from one to the other.

" _No!_ "

Wavering now, and Gold and Regina glance at each other with mutual wary confusion.

"Yes! We need to _talk!_ I mean... You know my _dad_?! Why is _he_ here with you? Where's Pinnoccio? You-"

"-Where's _who_?! Are you seriously _fucking_ with me?!"

"No! I... Emma, don't walk off again! We need to talk! You need to hear me out!"

"No! I don't!"

"You owe me-"

"-I don't fucking _owe_ you anything! You stood me up!"

"If you'll just let me explain-"

"-Explain _what_?! Why you led me on? Why you fucked me over?! You-"

"-Dearie, I understand that the fates have taken us all for fools and landed us with the situation of a lover's rift, but-"

"- _You let them put me in jail_! It should have been _you_ , Neal! _Not_ me!"

The Sheriff screams, paying Gold's interruption no mind, and then she's off; running once more, leaving the others standing in her wake open-mouthed.

" _What_ did she just say?"

The Queen growls murderously as she turns back to face Bae.

"I... It's a long story... It's not how she made it sound..."

"...Oh? Because it sounds to _me_ as though you were up to no good and coerced a young girl to take the fall for you..."

"You don't know what you're talking about..."

"No? Am I wrong?"

"Who _are_ you?!"

"A friend of Miss Swan's."

Gold sighs at this, offering up weary insight he doubts will in any way better the situation.

"Bae, this is Regina. The Queen."

"The... It was _you?!_... _You're_ the one that created the curse?... The curse that August warned me about-"

"-Who?"

"August... Pinnoccio..."

"Pin-... The man on the motorbike?! _He's_ a part of all this?!... Oh, for heaven's sake... Of _course_ he is... Why am I even _surprised_ at this point?! Y-"

"-Well, if you are who you say you are... You're no friend of Emma's. Pinnoccio warned me that it was the Queen- the _Evil_ Queen- who had brought upon Emma the fate of 'Saviour'... _You're_ the reason she-"

"- _Save it_! If you think I'm about to stand here and allow judgement from a man taking advice from a talking _tree_ , you are _sorely_ mistaken... Gold... Did you know about... About _this!_?"

"I did not... Bae... What is your association with that woman?"

"Neal. It's _Neal_ now... And I'm not saying another word to _either_ of you until I speak to Emma."

The younger man growls; ducking away as the pawnbroker moves a hand up to rest on his shoulder.

Shaking her head, the brunette's tone is oddly childlike when she speaks.

"You hurt her... She won't want to speak to you."

"I didn't _mean_ to hurt her. I meant to _help_ her!"

"Oh? Just not enough to take the fall for whatever it is you did and keep her from going to jail..."

"I _did_ that to help her! To help her fulfil whatever goddamn destiny she needed to fulfil!"

"You used her."

"I _loved_ her!"

* * *

Pulling her coat tighter to her shivering frame, the brunette hisses angrily as a man holding a carton of milk- the majority of said beverage coating the wiry whiskers of his upper lip- stumbles into her and knocks her elbow.

"Watch it, lady!"

Dark eyes flash with a fury that does nothing to help the dull thud of her headache and the irritating sting of her knee. She is cold, on edge, and wandering the streets of this putrid, foreign city with her hair dishevelled and a large rip in the once pristine linen of her dress pants.

She is miserable...

...But she is on the search for the Sheriff.

To tell her or ask her _what_ exactly, she doesn't know, but for now she will suffice simply to _find_ her.

Care for the blonde comes before any displeasure she is sadly sure will be garnered in finding out more about just what the Dark One's son might have to do with the woman she loves.

Trying the younger woman's number once again, she presses her cell to her cheek and clenches her teeth as it goes straight to voicemail.

It is a common phenomena, she is discovering, that she ponders on her protectiveness towards the Sheriff- and just what the younger woman might have to offer in that ever dry and sarcastic way of hers on the matter- but the simple fact of the matter is; Emma had quite clearly been distraught, and had stormed off into the ether.

The bustling, hatefully _loud_ ether.

After beating the crap out of the Dark One's son.

... These all seem to be the sorts of things that point towards one in need of being found _before_ said 'one' does something characteristically reckless and _stupid_.

"Pain in my backside, Swan."

Regina mutters, glancing through the window of a seedy looking bar as she stalks past. It is a little early for such an establishment to receive much custom, but then, such is the perfect place for the confused and troubled, and besides, she doesn't imagine for a second that Emma is one to put social protocol before liquor.

Full lips form a thin smirk; inwardly aware that her mind continues to work off of the residue of her past dislike and turn it into bemused affection.

The bar is empty, save for a trio of old bearded men drowning themselves into an amber grave.

"Come on-"

-As if on cue, she jumps as her phone vibrates in her hand, and she is suddenly aware of just how tightly she has been gripping the device.

Glancing down at the screen and stepping to the side so as not to get bowled over by the hordes that pollute the streets, she opens up the text message it displays with a sigh.

_Blonde Idiot: You rang?_

Rolling her eyes and huffing audibly, her breath misting into wisped smoke with the cold, she taps back a reply with numb fingers.

_Only about 12 times! We need to talk. I'm a block from the motel. Where are you?_

Pressing send, she glares at the screen with baited breath, fretfully weighing up the chances that her response will be ignored, before her phone lights up with a new message

 _Blonde Idiot: There's a Starbucks at the end of the street... I_ _did_ _tell you I was going to get coffee... X_

Rolling her eyes once more- another common phenomena when in any form of relationship with Emma Swan she decides- she stalks off towards and then past the motel; spying a luminescent sign in the distance.

* * *

Offering a belated, disinterested apology as she barges into a man in an ill-fitting suit exiting the establishment, Regina slips through the glass doors into the warmth of the cafe and scans the room briskly; spotting cascading gold in the corner and inwardly reprimanding herself for the soft warmth the sight brings.

Stalking towards the secluded booth, she stands with her hands on her hips, regarding the blonde irritably as Emma looks up at her moodily with a sigh. There is a wary pull to the Sheriff's mouth and an uneasy set to her otherwise determined frown, and the Mayor forgoes disdain for simple, detached small-talk.

"Should I be cutting you off?"

She sarks; pointing to the second paper cup that rests on the table beside the Sheriff's elevated boots.

"I ordered you one."

Emma replies with a shrug; causing the brunette to falter momentarily.

"You did?"

"Sure. If you don't want it, fine. Suit yourself. It's a cappuccino. Extra hot, wet, no chocolate."

"... Oh..."

The Queen murmurs, offering the younger woman a frown before falling into her seat while eying the proffered beverage.

"You're missing out. Mine has sprinkles... Try it if you want."

"I, uh... Okay... You... You ordered me a drink?"

Regina asks with her brow furrowed; deciding to start with the easiest of the questions milling around beneath dark tresses.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well... I mean... How did you know I would... Well-"

"-How did I know you'd come find me?"

"I suppose...?"

"Simple."

"How's that?"

"You'll _always_ find me."

"I... Right."

"Right... Now try my coffee; it's gingerbread flavour."

"... Uh-"

"-And come here. Sit down properly... No, not there... Sit next to me... If you'd like, that is."

"I... Of course I'd like... But Emma-"

"-Shut u-... Shush. Try my coffee and then drink yours... I... I need to tell you a story..."


	99. Chapter 99

Taking heed of the Sheriff's request, Regina pushes herself up and sidles around the low coffee table so that she can take a seat next to her. She offers Emma a curious glance as she does so; the proffered space somewhere between the size of a large armchair and a small sofa, and a rather snug fit for two, despite neither one of them carrying a whole lot of weight. Her hip presses against the blonde's comfortably, and she raises an eyebrow when the latter slouches down in the seat slightly to get comfortable; subsequently leaning against the soft wool of the Mayor's winter coat companionably.

"Dear... Do you think this is appropriate?... I mean, as we're out, and, well... This..."

"I think it's New York, and no one would bat an eyelid if I gave you cause to struggle for breath right now..."

Emma replies with a faint smile; her muscles tense and head pounding due to recent events, but vaguely aware that Regina has momentarily taken on the role of stammering innocent and finding the fact to be endearingly amusing.

"Oh..."

"But I'm afraid it'll have to wait."

"... You have a story you need to tell me first."

"... Yeah..."

The younger woman nods pensively, but she seems at a loss of where to start exactly and so simply sips at her coffee in silence. Leaning forwards to pluck up the cup that waits for her on the low table, the Mayor settles back once more so that the blonde can sink into her comfortably; light curls catching slightly on the side of her coat.

"... You knew that man... Gold's son..."

She prompts gently, taking a sip of hot, strong coffee and wondering if it really _is_ the best cappuccino she's ever tasted, or if it just seems that way because _Emma_ bought it for her.

"Yes... His name is Neal... Well, it is _here_ anyway."

"Okay. Neal... So, when did you meet him?"

"When I was about seventeen... My car- my bug- that's how we met..."

"How's that?"

"I tried to steal it... He'd _already_ stolen it... _Quite_ the romantic tale, no?"

"... So... You were together?"

"... Yeah..."

"Oh god..."

The brunette groans, before catching the guarded expression with which the Sheriff studies her and shaking her head apologetically.

"I don't mean because of you and me... I mean because, well, it's _Gold's_ son... The Dark One's son..."

"Then I agree with your 'oh god' and raise you a 'holy shit'..."

Emma mutters darkly, her eyes cast down thoughtfully to her cup before she offers it to the Mayor to taste as promised.

"Regina, do you think he knew? Gold, I mean..."

"No... No, I don't think so... I think he knew he'd need you, but I imagine he'd have gone about things a little differently if he'd known the two of you shared a history..."

"But... It _can't_ just be coincidence! I mean, for Neal and I to have crossed paths and to have- ... It's crazy, right?"

"It is... But I can't offer you any other explanation, dear... Some things- a _lot_ of things- in both of our lives are a result of Rumplestiltskin's foresight... But he always said when he taught me that 'fate plays a hand'... A cruel one in this case."

"... Yeah..."

Regina sighs; Emma's 'storytelling' technique lacklustre to say the least, but she knows the younger woman well enough by now to be aware that the fact that they are sitting here discussing recent adverse discoveries at _all_ is a huge step for both of them in itself. Taking a sip from the coffee she accepts from slim fingers, she winces at its immense sweetness and hands it back to the Sheriff who rubs her thumb pensively over the faint lipstick smear left on the white plastic.

"Is that why you were in jail, then? For stealing the car?"

"No... No, Neal wanted to shift some stolen watches. He had it all planned out, you know? We were going to take the money and find somewhere to live- a _proper_ place to live- in Tallahassee."

"Why Tallahassee?"

"Why not?... It was... It was stupid, anyway... Kid's stuff...

The blonde sniffs, and the Queen frowns, but keeps the opinion that it sure doesn't sound like stupid kid's stuff to the _Sheriff_ to herself.

"You got caught?"

"He told me to meet him while the watches were still hot... He never showed up."

"Oh."

"The cops did."

"They didn't believe you that it was all his idea?"

"I didn't _tell_ them it was all his idea."

"Why not?"

"Because... I was seventeen... And..."

Regina sighs as she turns her head to regard the blonde; the latter casting her gaze up towards the ceiling, and the Mayor imagines the sheen of tears that trembles precariously between her waterline and lashes to be her reason for doing so.

"You loved him..."

She finishes for the Sheriff quietly.

"I told him so, yes... But, whatever, that was a long time ago..."

"It doesn't matter! Emma, please, you're allowed to feel the way you must do now, whether it's a case of a couple of weeks, or, as in this instance, a little over eleven _years,_ it's-... Oh..."

This last syllable is much lower, and the blonde closes her eyes as she feels the darker woman tense up beside her; a tear escaping from clamped lashes to splash onto the back of her hand unnoticed.

"Regina..."

"...Henry..."

"Please don't hate me..."

The Sheriff whispers pleadingly, shaking her head nervously as the brunette slowly pushes herself from the seat and brushes down her coat with trembling fingers.

"Excuse me, I believe I'm about to be sick."

"No, no, Regina, _please!_ You can't leave me here like this!"

Emma begs a little shrilly, and she is bemused to find that this is perhaps the first and only time that she couldn't give a shit about sounding weak and desperate, as right now, that's _exactly_ what she's feeling.

"Emma, please, I need to go."

" _No!_ "

The Queen shakes her head distractedly, and hurries for the door with a slightly awkward gait; nothing like her usual delicate grace. The Sheriff begins to move to chase after her, but when the glass door of the cafe swings shut behind the brunette and narrowly avoids hitting her in the face, she stumbles to a halt; breath shallow and frantic as she struggles with the most uncharacteristic urge to start crying right in the middle of the damn coffee shop.

Swallowing thickly, she rubs a palm roughly across her cheek to vanquish the few tears that _have_ escaped despite her best efforts, and pulls her coat closer to her slim frame before pushing open the door and stalking out into the street to catch the Mayor's dark hair ruffle in the wind, before she slips into the shelter of the motel.

"Fuck..."

The blonde mutters beneath her breath, nibbling her lip anxiously as her shoulders drop in defeat.

"Hey... Are you okay?"

Glancing up sharply, she regards a man who comes out of the glass doors through which she's just left sporting a politely concerned smile.

"I'm fine."

She assures him icily; wondering if she actually ever will be again.

"Break ups are tough, huh... That's too bad..."

"I'm _fine!_ "

She repeats warningly, eyes flashing as he comes to a stop beside her; a little closer than she would have liked.

"If you say so, sweetheart... Still, you don't _look_ like a dyke. If you like it both ways, maybe I could help take your mind off-"

She is unable to decipher the rest, as it comes out as little more than a pained howl; ruddy hands covering a ruddier nose where the Sheriff's fist has made smart contact.

She glances around them for anyone running over to put a stop to their little altercation, but, as she's told the brunette countless times; this is New York, and- save for a few people stopping on their various errands in hopes of catching a full blown show- the world keeps on going about its business as usual.

"Bitch..."

This she _is_ able to catch, and she throws the man a withering glance and flash of her teeth, noting the small dribble of blood that has begun to seep slowly through his fingers towards his wrist.

Tossing her hair back, she stalks towards the motel; musing as she goes that she may never feel 'fine' again, but she _does_ feel a little bit _better_ now.

* * *

"Regina?"

The blonde knocks softly at the Queen's motel door; any lingering hardness from her surge of aggression having depleted, leaving her red-eyed and miserable. She leans against the wall as she waits for an answer, before moving round and placing her arm high up on the door and hitting her forehead a few times gently against the flaking paint.

Sniffing, she pushes herself back up and turns away, before a voice heralds her from within the room.

"Emma?... Is that you?"

"... Yeah..."

"... Come in, then."

"It's locked."

"It's not now."

"It is, you need a... Oh... Never mind..."

She murmurs with slow realisation as she pushes open the door despite the fact it should be impossible to do so without a key. Padding hesitantly into the room, she surveys her surroundings sombrely, and finds no sign of the darker woman, thus concluding her to be in the small, adjoining bathroom. Moving over to stand in the doorway, she regards the Mayor warily as the latter reciprocates from her reclined position in the narrow, chipped bathtub.

Regina takes in wet lashes and peaky features and sighs.

"Sorry about that... I told you... I needed to be sick."

She explains weakly, and the Sheriff hesitates for just a moment, before nodding in understanding and slinking a little further into the compact bathroom. Giving in to the exhaustion that eats at her from inside, she slides down the dirty, tiled wall to sit with her knees up by her chin with her arms hugged around then tightly.

"...Do you hate me?"

Emma inquires quietly; speaking to the damp towel that lines the floor rather than to the woman in the bath. The brunette looks up sharply from her contemplation of the bubbles that coat the surface of her bathwater, regarding the younger woman sternly.

"Why on _earth_ would I do that?"

"I don't... I just... Because Henry..."

The Sheriff chokes nonsensically, and the Mayor sighs heavily as she looks down at the shallow graze that mars the smooth skin of her knee.

"Of course I don't _hate_ you... Emma, you've had to take in an impossible amount of bizarre- and simply insane- information over the past year, and put up with a whole lot of drama you didn't even really _understand_... Found out a lot of things that confused you, shocked you and hurt you... I just wasn't expecting to have to do the _same_ today... It was a lot to take, and it wasn't a pleasant realisation, I'll give you that... And, I'll tell you another thing... The next time I say a word about your drinking or your irritable tendencies, you have my full permission to tell me- as you would say- where I can shove it..."

She hopes for a giggle, but she gets little more than a watery sniff of amusement, which she supposes she'll still gladly take.

"... I don't hate you, dear."

She repeats quietly.

"That's too bad... You were so good at it..."

the blonde murmurs glumly into the denim of her jeans, and Regina smiles wearily and closes her eyes.

"I'm good at _lots_ of things."

"I know, and you don't let me forget it..."

She sarks, before looking up at the Queen solemnly and speaking in a hollow voice.

"I'm sorry, Regina."

The brunette rolls her eyes with feigned irritation- despite the fact that several tears roll down her cheeks to taint her bathwater- and addresses the Sheriff sternly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Emma."

"I just... I don't know what to _do_..."

And then the choked rasp to her voice really does break into miserable sobbing and she buries her face into her knees. Leaning over a little awkwardly, the Mayor wipes her hand a few times on the soft wool of the younger woman's sweater- the latter unresponsive to such ministrations- before petting the blonde's hair gently. She imagines she is doing so in a way similar to how one might stroke a dog, but her position makes it difficult to offer up any alternative comfort, and she doesn't think Emma minds. Waiting for the Sheriff's crying to die down into the occasional exhausted sniff, she speaks softly as the blonde turns her head slightly to the side- long lashes closed and wet- and makes gentle circles with her thumb at the latter's temple.

"We don't have to 'do' anything, dear... It... It is what it is; we can't _change_ it... We'll talk to Gold and see where we stand... It's your choice, Emma, but I think you need to speak to this 'Neal' and explain to him just what he did to you, and ask him why the _hell_ he did it! For your own peace of mind!... And, I think... I think we'll have to tell Henry... But then there's probably a _few_ things we need to tell Henry..."

"... What do you mean?"

Tense. Anxious. Wary.

The brunette pays this no mind, simply continuing to run her fingers through dishevelled tresses.

"I mean... You're a grown woman living with her parents and maybe you should think about moving out to live with your child..."

"Regina... Are you suggesting..."

"...You _know_ what I'm suggesting. It simply makes sense. We can figure this all out, dear... I love you, and Henry loves you... The rest? It will fall into place... This trip has been pure hell, Miss Swan, but... I still enjoyed being with you... I've learnt a lot of things today, Emma, but I think if I'm going to ponder on any of them, I'd like that to be the one... Now get out of the way; this water is freezing and there's no room for me to dry myself off with you sat there taking up half the bathroom."

She admonishes, suddenly stern, giving the younger woman an amiable pat on the head before shooing her away; the Sheriff finally chuckling throatily as she scrambles to her feet and out the door to wait in the bedroom.

Regina smirks as she wipes away the salt water at her cheeks along with the rest; feeling suddenly lighter than she has done since they got to this hellhole. Regarding herself curiously in the mirror, she shakes out her hair and folds her towel around herself primly before sauntering into the bedroom with a smile.

She finds Emma standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with her arms outstretched and she walks into them swiftly; burying her face into the younger woman's sweater and breathing in the latter's favoured scent of soft honey beneath the mixture of harsher smells that cling to her from the outside world.

"Just so you know... I'm no good with words like you are... But I agree with everything you said..."

"Good, that's a great start to any cohabiting relationship; total and complete compliance and worship."

"I think you may have twisted my words just slightly..."

"It's not _my_ fault you struggle to form a coherent sentence."

"Actually, I _don't_ like you. I want to move out..."

Emma mutters, and the brunette laughs, pressing her lips against the blonde's firmly.

"... You taste of salt..."

"What are you trying to say?!"

The Sheriff cries with mock offence to try and hide her awkwardness, but the act is a little flawed as her eyes are still a telling pink and her cheeks stained with tear tracks.

"I'm saying I think you should go wash your face, dear."

"Hm, fine."

"Really? That's it? No argument?"

"No. In fact, give me a minute to sort myself out and try and pull a brush through my hair."

"Oh? What's the occasion?"

The Mayor inquires with a smirk, and the blonde offers a long-suffering sigh that has the former chuckling darkly.

"Well... I've _done_ what Gold asked of me. And, I know he's going to have questions, and I know I should probably talk to him, and I know things are _far_ from sorted and all of that, but _fuck it!..._ I did my part, and he can just damn well _wait_... I've had enough for one day-"

"-Ah, and you want good hair to suit your new, brazen, devil may care attitude?"

"... _As_ I was saying- though now I'm beginning to wonder why in the hell I'd _want_ to!- I do believe that earlier I told you I would show you around town once we found Baelfire... Well... We found him... So..."

"We did... Now ask me properly."

"Huh?"

"You're asking me out on a date; do it properly."

"Shit, Regina, you want me to get down on one _knee,_ too?"

"Oh, I'd like that _very_ much, dear."

"... Twenty minutes. Get dressed."

"...A date? A date with Emma Swan? Why yes, I'd _love_ to!"

"...You're lucky you're hot."

"And I love _you,_ too, dear."


	100. Chapter 100

Standing in the middle of her own bedroom now, the Sheriff lets out a sound that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and she imagines the comedown she will eventually suffer from the adrenaline that has coursed through her body today will be most severe. Her mind feels like a diseased tooth pulsing away inside her skull, but her heart feels full and her stomach flutters with butterflies.

_I love you, and Henry loves you... The rest? It will fall into place..._

She allows a curiously childlike smile to creep across her features, before chuckling huskily as she imagines she must look quite mad.

Stalking over to the bag she had tossed on the dresser upon entering and crossing her fingers that she has actually _remembered_ to pack some form of hairbrush- having borrowed the brunette's this morning for minimal teasing in the hopes of looking mildly presentable- she finds that luck is on her side in this instance, and retrieves hard, sadistic bristles along with a tube of mascara and some tinted lip balm she finds rolling around with the lint at the bottom.

Her rummaging has the cheap plastic of her phone slipping out to clunk dully onto the wobbly dresser, and she nips her bottom lip between her teeth in mild amusement as the brunette's voice fills her head with sultry, disdainful drawl.

 _Oh, don't bother keeping your phone_ on _you or anything. It's not like I might need to get hold of you given as you're the Sheriff now, Miss Swan._

She shrugs; never really having had a whole lot of interest in what anyone might have to relay unto her before Storybrooke.

She had tried to explain this to Regina a little later on in their relationship- 'post nakedness', as she determines that specific timeframe in her own mind- by patiently going over the fact once more that _yes,_ she had relied on technology to do her job as a bail bondsman, but that this had predominantly consisted of scrolling through emails and various internet sites with a vodka and lime in her hand and husky grit on the music system. For a very brief stint, she had added a Virginia Slim between her lips into the mix and created the holy trinity, but she had decided soon after that it simply wasn't worth the morning aftertaste.

Now, she brings the phone to life dutifully after being reminded of its existence and smiles despite herself as she encounters three small text message icons in the left hand corner she must have missed earlier in her shocked state.

Given as she is off the clock and with the only person she frequently makes plans with, there is a touch of warmth that comes from seeing those blinking little envelopes from the other people that she is finally ready to admit care for her as she cares for them.

The first is from Mary Margaret

_MM: Hi Emma, we hope all is going well over there and that you have managed to do what you needed to do. Please message us to let us know how you are when you get a chance. We wish you luck, and will see you soon. Mary Margaret, James, Henry xx_

For a moment she suffers some confusion as to who in the hell 'James' is, but then her brain kicks into gear and she chews her lip awkwardly. To receive a 'family' message is a little overwhelming to say the least, but she doesn't miss the fact that- though she refers to David by his false Storybrooke name- Mary Margaret has kept her own name familiar, and there is not a doubt in the blonde's mind that her housemate has done so with careful consideration of her feelings.

The second message is from Ruby

_Deputy Lucas: Hello, Clarice... Hit a girl up and let her know you're still alive, please? Have you found Gold's kid yet?... Is he hot? ;) Miss you lots! XOXO_

A choked, exasperated noise at this last question, and Emma makes a mental note to enter herself into the young brunette's phone under a similarly bemusing pseudonym as Ruby has apparently taken it upon herself to do in hers.

The last is yet another from Mary Margaret.

_MM: Bit concerned that we still haven't heard from you, but I guess I know that you're OK anyway... Weather is awful here and I found your good winter coat behind the door. Wrap up warm! Henry says hi xx_

She rolls her eyes, but not unkindly; the raven headed woman's checking up on her and worrying about her ability to dress herself appropriately a habit going back _much_ further than the breaking of the curse.

She feels a momentary twinge of guilt as it is only now that she truly appreciates that fact rather than finding it irritating.

Running a finger pensively over her bottom lip, she replies to Mary Margaret first.

_Hi. I'm ok. Debt has been paid, but will explain in more detail when I see you. X_

Relaying much the same message to Ruby

 _Hello, deputy. I'm alive. I_ really _can't answer that! I will explain when I see you. You do? Personally, I'm stoked to be shot of you for a while ;) X_

Pulling a face as she opens up the schoolteacher's second message once more, she supposes there's no point holding back on the gushy stuff given as she's already- and she imagines she will regret this sooner rather than later- promised to 'explain things', i.e. 'talk about them', to several people once back home. Tapping back swiftly with a crooked grin; she presses send before she can edit the message to suit her usual, nihilistic style.

_PS. Relax, mom, I've got this. Sweaters and coats are being worn, promise. Tell Henry his moms say hi :)... Miss you. E. Xx_

She chuckles at her own expense as she is fairly sure the raven headed woman will suffer a mild coronary due to shock of receiving the latter of her two messages, but she feels incredibly good for it. Tossing her phone back in the bag- deeming the fact that Regina possesses one of these mysterious devices also, and actually tends to _use_ hers to suffice on the whole 'being contactable' front- she hurries into the bathroom and washes her face with cold water.

She spies the more substantial makeup she had used earlier before confronting Gold, but leaves it untouched in favour of the items plucked from her bag. She is neither a big fan of the stuff, nor is she very adept at applying it, and she has yet to see the point of _trying_ when she knows she is only going to spend her time next to a woman whose own technique is flawless.

Besides; certain comments here and there have led her to believe that Regina in fact _prefers_ the pale, imperfect and marked features that stare back at her now through the glass, and she's not about to argue with anything that requires minimal effort on her part.

She rolls her own eyes to save the brunette the trouble.

Pulling her brush through long hair with several hissed expletives, she shakes out glossy locks once she's done; pulling her hair away from her face for a second before deciding it still looks decent enough down and letting it fall back heavily over her shoulders. She applies mascara and lip balm with the briskness of one used to doing their make up in the bathroom stall of a bar rather than sat at the luxury of a dressing table, and assess her face from both sides before deeming herself acceptable.

Hurrying back into the bedroom, she is about to make for the door, when she is struck by a sudden idea which has an impish grin spreading wickedly across rose-tinted lips.

* * *

Regina makes it twenty-six minutes before a much more confident knock to the one she'd received earlier comes at her door.

Smoothing down the better pair of pants she'd brought with her and fluffing her hair, she stalks to the door and opens it with a flourish; smirking as she looks the blonde up and down and concludes her to look much the same as twenty-six minutes ago, just a little less windswept and weepy.

"You look exactly the same."

She teases huskily, acutely aware of the way glittering eyes give her an appreciative once over to match her own. Her sarcasm is simply fed back to her, as Emma licks her lips thoughtfully in a most distracting manner; offering a sly grin and replying smartly

"My true form is the one that pleases Her Majesty most."

The Mayor offers this sentiment a withering expression, but her eyes flicker back to softly curved lips without any pretence.

The younger woman susses the object of the brunette's affection and she smiles widely, before taking a step back to hinder the Queen in brushing delicate scarlet against her prize.

"Wait, wait, you wanted to do this properly, remember?"

"... Go on..."

Regina sighs; curious, but bemused as she recognises that pixie-like glint in the Sheriff's eyes to be one of definite mischief.

Teeth bared brilliantly, the blonde reveals something in the hand which the Mayor had previously neglected to notice she'd been holding behind her back.

"...What _is_ that?"

The brunette inquires with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose.

"A corsage! You wanted a proper date; and the way it works here is-"

"-I know what a corsage is, Miss Swan, I'm a Queen, not an idiot. Where do you think the tradition arose? Perhaps I should rephrase my question in a way you might have more luck in understanding: what the hell is _that_?"

She points at the dirty tuft of green in the younger woman's hand and sighs theatrically as the latter feigns excessive hurt.

"I worked with what I had!"

The blonde chuckles at the brunette's continued loyalty to her bemused, placid expression and examines her offering herself before tossing it absent-mindedly aside to land in the hallway in a way that suddenly has the Queen's stomach clenching, as this small act serves to make things for just a second as if none of the ordeal with Gold, with Emma being gone, with Bae, ever happened. It is something she would once have snapped irritably at the Sheriff for, and for that, she is truly thankful.

"Well, that was a bust, can I use your sink to wash my hands?"

The blonde asks with that same sarcastic smile, and Regina kisses her swiftly- catching the younger woman's wrist deftly as she does so, as, all love aside, she doesn't trust Emma for a _second_ not to find it hilarious to wipe her hand on the expensive wool of her coat- before ushering her into the room to wash her hands as requested.

"Do I _want_ to know where you got that... Moss? Was it moss?"

"It was growing on the windowsill."

"Delightful."

"Well... You know... I'm not sure if you've _noticed_ , Madame Mayor, but I know a thing or two about wooing a woman."

"... Oh god."


	101. Chapter 101

As they leave the motel- an anxious breath held in by each of them in fear of running into either Gold or his son on their way out- there is an awkward silence between them that amuses the brunette greatly. She glances at Emma out of the corner of her eye with a smirk, watching as the younger woman's gaze flickers about nervously and catching the way she seems to be walking with pointed, confident swagger.

She chuckles quietly, and glittering green flashes in her direction before the younger woman adopts a small smile; pretty sure she has some idea as to what has the Mayor so tickled.

Clearing her throat in an attempt to quit feeling like a fifteen-year-old out on their first date, Emma moves to slide her hand into Regina's own and frowns when the darker woman shakes her head and pulls her palm away.

"I was making fun of you when I kept calling this a date, dear."

"But... It _is_ a date... I thought-"

"-Oh, it _is_... And I expect to be well and truly- how did you put it?- 'wooed'... But I would hazard a guess that hand-holding isn't really your style, and I don't want you to do it just because you think you should... It's not _you._ "

She explains, inwardly continuing this statement in her head with the fact that- all this aside- _she_ would quite _happily_ have the younger woman hold her hand at any given moment. However, she stands by what she says; liking Emma for, well, Emma, and all of her awkwardness aside.

To her surprise, the blonde offers her a sunny smile in response, followed by hooking a slim arm around her neck, and laughing lightly as she impedes their stroll so that it becomes a lilted and stumbling embrace; teeth flashing brightly, and long hair whipping about to tickle the Mayor's cheek. The latter lets out a low chuckle of amusement and presses her lips firmly to the Sheriff's cheek- feeling incredibly free in doing so in the middle of the street- before she pushes her away gently with playful admonishment.

"At least _try_ and uphold some dignity, you loon!"

Gathering herself, Emma nods in silent apology; settling for simply stalking beside the Mayor in a fashion far more similar to that with which the brunette is accustomed.

"So... What do you want to do?"

The Sheriff inquires a little sheepishly, and the darker woman smirks and shakes her head.

"I thought you were going to 'show me the sights', dear? That you had this whole magnificent _date_ planned?"

"Well... I... I mean I guess we could go to Staten Island... Or maybe the Met... Or-"

"-Emma, it doesn't matter where we go... Just show me what you would do when not in Storybrooke."

"Well... It's a little early to hit the bar..."

The Sheriff jokes, but the Mayor simply shrugs, and makes a gesture with her hand to suggest she is willing to overlook this fact. Smiling in return, the younger woman nods to their right and leads them deeper into the city, confiding huskily

"Ok, I have an idea."

Whether this is a promise or a threat, the brunette is unsure. She simply follows.

* * *

The streets of Manhattan are encrusted with Christmas lights, and they pass by several bell-toting Santas in various stages of morbid obesity as they mill around the bustling sidewalks. The decorations are both garish and impressive -overwhelming yet wonderful- and both women express their surprise as they peer companionably into windows dusted with faux snow that recent events have led them to completely forget about the fast approaching holiday.

"Ordinarily, I have to get myself strictly organised, as Henry's birthday- well... the one _we_ have celebrated over the years- falls so soon after."

"When are you ever _not_ organised, Madame Mayor?"

Emma responds through a mouthful of hot chocolate- having brought herself a steaming cup of sweetness and the Mayor a similar styrofoam vessel holding spiced wine- paying any awkwardness derived from the Queen's words no mind. Regina smiles, sipping delicately at her own beverage.

"I like to keep things in order, true... This year things just all got a bit out of hand..."

"Yeah... I... I guess Henry didn't really get to celebrate his birthday after all-"

Catching herself swiftly, she hurries to rectify her statement

"-I mean, how _I'd_ wanted to spend his _actual_ birthday with him... I'm sure after Christmas your meal and everything will be-"

"- _Our_ meal."

"Huh?"

"I told you... Things have changed. If it's what you want then you'll celebrate Christmas with him and then his birthday- _that_ birthday- just as you _should_... And he bares you no grudge, dear... You had a better excuse than most."

The brunette's brow furrows darkly at this, but she doesn't dwell on the matter; not wanting to spoil what is proving to be a wonderfully comfortable afternoon.

A gentle warmth against her arm as the Sheriff stands a little closer, and she smiles. The blonde reciprocates.

"Come on."

A small nudge against her shoulder, and Regina follows the younger woman curiously as the latter hurries down the street with a sudden sense of purpose. Coming to a halt before the glittering veils of a colossal christmas tree, Emma grins as the Mayor's eyes widen in surprise, and she is dimly struck by the idea that what she is seeing- _who_ she is seeing- is the young woman that had belonged to the divine body she knows so very well, before things had all gone so terribly wrong.

She sees the awe-struck, innocent, kind-hearted daughter of a snake-like woman and her downtrodden spouse that would one day deem herself to be the Evil Queen.

Only... That title is dead and forgotten now.

The book was wrong.

"It's _magnificent.._."

The brunette breathes, and she turns to find the younger woman beaming at her.

"It's pretty cool, yeah... But, it's not why we're here."

"Oh?"

"Look to your left."

The Mayor does as she is told and raises an eyebrow in amusement as she regards the impressive window display of the toystore before them.

"A toy shop."

"Not _a_ toy shop. _The_ toy shop. FAO Schwarz. They have pretty much anything you could _think_ of!"

Green eyes shimmer brilliantly, and the older woman laughs; rolling her own dark orbs beneath sooty lashes.

"You're such a _child_..."

"Not for me, you idiot! You just _said_ Christmas kind of snuck up on us... We can take a look for Henry..."

Regina smiles; ignoring the blonde's name calling and picking up on the last hint of shyness that laces otherwise lazy drawl.

She doesn't tell Emma to desist with her worrying. Doesn't vocalise the fact that, _yes_ , it is still a little obscure that the two of them should be gift shopping for the boy together. She doesn't console that last flicker of fear in the younger woman's eyes by telling her that she thinks their current situation is possibly more of a blessing unto Henry than anything either of them could wrap.

She just sticks to what's familiar and sighs theatrically as though suffering the company of a fool, and tells the Sheriff to lead the way.

* * *

By the time they finish shopping- Regina having pointed out a few further stores with window displays that served to catch her interest- darkness has fallen, and the twinkling lights of the city amaze and bedazzle as a different festive tune seems to play from every street corner.

Despite her earlier teasing, there has been very little romantic effort on Emma's part; sex- both rough and tender- is something that seems almost second nature to them by now and so is not her focused goal for the evening. What _is_ new and exciting, is this curious freedom to just be _normal_. To be friendly towards one another and to laugh and poke fun, and to needle out the final, fractured, hidden parts that make each woman who she is.

Of course, to imagine that one would be able to figure out the other _completely_ within the space of an evening is both ludicrous, and unhealthy... But each of them suffers the burden of questions pertaining to the tips of deep-seated emotional icebergs that have been touched upon during their time together, and swiftly buried away behind narrowed eyes gleaming with the wounded distrust of a wild beast that has been forced to accept that she will always be hunted.

There are questions that each wishes to ask of the other.

But there are also _answers_ that deserve to finally come out.

For this reason, after passing by several small, beautifully stylish restaurants that she imagines would be right up the Mayor's alley- and a welcome change to Granny's in the brunette's eyes- the Sheriff stops outside the loud and tacky promise of the Hard Rock Cafe and turns to the Queen.

"In here we can talk... Plus, it's kind of fun..."

She adds with a small, self-deprecating smirk, and she is both surprised and relieved when the brunette doesn't question her words as the thrum of music and chatter is audible from outside.

In here they can be anyone they want to be.

In here, they can blend in, talk, love, disappear.

_And they make a decent enough burger if memory serves me correctly._

The younger woman's mind pipes up, and she imagines it's a good thing that Regina is not a mindreader as well as magic. The thought has her grinning, but when the brunette inquires as to what has her so tickled, she simply shrugs and allows a young girl in pin-studded suspenders to lead them through to a table near the back.

She orders them cocktails with a dismissive wave of her hand as Regina mentions their extortionate price, and this sparks the Mayor into going first in their session of feeling each other out.

"You're paying?"

"I said I'd take you out."

"You paid for the room..."

"Yes, they tend to prefer it when you do."

"You have money..."

"...Yes."

"More than Sheriff's wages."

The Mayor prompts, and Emma offers a small nod of thanks to the waitress that comes bearing two large, colourful glasses, before sitting back and accepting the bait.

"I do... That said, to be fair, Mary Margaret has never actually asked me to pay rent, nor would she accept any amount I suggested to her. That would have saved me a _fair_ bit of money, but the idea did nothing for my self worth. I have been wiring her money after opening her bank statement accidentally-on-purpose for almost six months now, and I'm pretty sure she _still_ hasn't caught on. $600 a month. I think that's a fair price for the room and use of facilities... But you're right; I have money. What I was doing before coming to Storybrooke was well paid, and I was good at it. Often, cash in hand, and with a large amount of my meals and clothes paid for by default. I had a nice apartment... You would probably have liked it, actually. It was fairly large, and I decorated it minimally, but tastefully... But that was all. Other than a few groceries and bills, I had no outgoings. The bug pretty much lived in a garage I'd made a deal for a long while back, and I was never around at the right time of night to bother with anything like cable. I earned a lot and spent little."

"What do you mean when you say that? That you were 'good' at it? How can one be better than another in your previous position?... At deception, of course, I can understand that... But, a job is a job?"

"True. And apart from perks and gifts, the price would be fixed whether it was me playing bait or someone else... It's about how many marks you can have on the go... How invested you get in it all. Don't forget... It's people's lives you're playing with... Some people get caught up in that and need to take a break after a successful hit... I never suffered from such problems."

She shrugs, and takes a sip of her cocktail; regarding the brunette pensively before forming a small smile around her straw.

"Of course, I also didn't drink slouched over like this."

"Oh?"

Regina asks with a similar smirk of amusement, eyes flashing as the younger woman shakes her head slowly and moves to sit up straight; bringing her arms closer to her body to make herself look curiously more feminine and accentuate her breasts. Emma adopts a darker expression and lets the straw play tantalisingly over her lips for a second before breaking into a fit of heady laughter as she unable to take the sudden hooded lust in the Mayor's own eyes.

"Just imagine if I'd been wearing a dress!"

She jokes, and the brunette laughs and sips at her own drink; purposefully, but silently pointing out that her own appeal has no such off-switch.

"Show off."

The blonde chides with no real trace of malice. The Mayor simply shrugs, her voice rich when she speaks

"Perhaps... But why not flaunt it if you have it, or so I was told to believe..."

"Told or taught?"

"Hmm?"

Full lips fall slowly from their catlike smile, and Regina regards Emma pensively as the latter waits for an answer. A waitress comes and goes to take their order, but there is no real reprieve from the question that lingers between them, and when the stout little woman walks off with her pad in her hand, the brunette sighs and takes the stage.

"That is a tricky one to answer, Miss Swan. Was I taught to behave in the exact fashion that I do? Of course not... But, was I taught to conduct myself in a manner to get what I want? Yes... That was drilled in quite early on."

"...Because your mother wanted you to marry into royalty...?"

"Indeed. Or, at the very least, to marry into nobel blood, but I believe she had always held on to hope that I should wed our family into royalty... It was something she wanted for the _longest_ time... A strange ambition for a Miller's daughter, but one she never laid to rest. As such... Everything from the way I spoke, to the way I dressed, to the way I _walked_ was cultivated towards this 'greater life' she'd built up in her head... And the repercussions for stepping out of line were quite _severe_..."

"...She hurt you?"

There is a little too much camaraderie in the younger woman's eyes as she asks this last, and Regina frowns, choosing her words carefully.

"She used force, and she used her powers... Both magical and psychological... Occasionally this would leave its mark... But my mother never intended any physical harm unto me; of that I am sure."

"...That's not a 'no'..."

"No. It isn't. I told you what became of Daniel... That was the wound that bled deepest within my heart... But she bruised it quite excruciatingly long before she took him from me-"

"-Ketchup or Mayonnaise? Are you alright for drinks?"

A waitress interrupts as she places their food-laden plates before them, and the Queen swiftly quells her initial reaction to punish the dumb wretch where she stands. Emma seems to catch on to the sudden danger hinted within her expression and she turns to the woman with a wry smile and a dismissive tone.

"Both. And please bring over a bottle of red wine- whatever your house red is- but don't interrupt us again. My friend and I have a couple of things to discuss, and we would greatly appreciate being left alone to do so."

It is a curt, eloquent, cool request, and not like any other the brunette has heard come from the Sheriff's lips. Raising an eyebrow as the waitress nods and hurries away, she watches thoughtfully as the blonde sighs and sips the last of her cocktail.

Emma reads the question that lingers in the silence easily.

"I know you often take me for a fool, and it's not an act, it's just... The way I can come across... But this is the world I grew up in. The world that I worked in. Sometimes a public place is the most appropriate in which to get to the bottom of private matters, but persuasion of those around you is occasionally required and necessary."

"Then that is a rule that transcends both worlds and castes... Though, I suppose technically you _are_ a princess..."

"No-"

The younger woman replies; creating a large pool of garish red and white for dipping.

"-By blood, perhaps, but we both know I'm not... And I'm _more_ than okay with that."

She smiles as she reddens the end of several french fries and snaps them up with that old, familiar, yet startling alacrity.

Looking down at her salad and bread and then over to Emma's burger, fries, and generous side of coleslaw; the Mayor watches as sharp teeth make swift work of salted potato and creamy slaw. She has grown accustomed to the younger woman's almost frenzied behaviour when it comes to food- the blonde dulling her obscurity down expertly, but unable to break curious habits completely- but it is only now that they seem to have agreed to this amiable parlay that she openly acknowledges the fact.

"Are you worried you'll starve, dear?"

She taunts, but her tone is free from its rich arrogance, and her expression demands an answer.

She gets one in the form of the Sheriff's middle finger, but when this does nothing to deter her patient stare, the younger woman swallows her mouthful and licks her lips with an odd sort of delicacy; wiping her hands on her napkin and regarding the remainder of her food moodily.

"Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow and when we're going to get to eat if Gold-"

"-Emma..."

"No. I'm not... Not logically... It's... It's..."

"Habit?"

"Something like that."

"From when you were younger."

Emma rolls her eyes.

"Yes, but that makes it sound like the kid from 'A Child Called It' or something."

"Excuse me?"

"Doesn't matter... It's just... It's hard to talk about and not sound like... I dunno... A charity case or something."

"Try me."

"Fine...Yes; things were unstable, and once you've moved around for the fifth or sixth time because a family changed their mind or flat out decided 'this isn't working out', you kind of... You learn to expect it. You get somewhere and for a while everything's great and there's clothes and there's food... And then it just goes away... Not always... But it _can_... There's a benefit to fostering, see; you get paid to do it. There's a lot of people out there that want that money more than they actually want the kids. People that don't know a goddamn thing about raising a child... And the thing is, you can't like... Threaten disappointment or withhold affection, when there _was_ no expectation or affection in the first place... But you _can_ withhold food. It makes obedience training remarkably easy."

" _Surely_ that's not allowed?"

"By law? No. Probably not. But then that's one of the frustrating things about foster homes; lack of attorneys."

"I see..."

"So... When the food's there to eat; eat the food. Simple."

The Sheriff shrugs in a way that begs an end to that particular topic. She goes back to her dinner with rigid control; matching the Mayor forkful for forkful, and the darker woman clenches her jaw at the idea of the Sheriff as a girl- unkempt and too skinny- in a house far too full of noise and devoid of love, but she says nothing more on the matter other than

"A sensical philosophy, Miss Swan."

"It's no different really though, is it?"

Comes the belated reply, and Regina looks up in surprise; having thought the blonde tapped out on the subject.

"What isn't?"

"Manipulation... Magic or food... Love or even a few scraps of attention... You look _sad_ because of what I just told you, and it's the same kind of look you've been throwing me since we got here. You feel pity for me that I had nothing in the sense of food or family... Well, I pity _you_ because you _did_... Every mealtime being a feast means very little if you have no appetite for it. Family that attends to every need and surveys every flaw... Love that derives from the need to 'fix' things, as if you were some broken piece of machinery... You still weren't good enough, Regina, or so they made you feel..."

"I..."

"So the philosophy applies. If it makes them want you, if it makes them love you, if it makes them _like_ you; do it."

The brunette blinks as if she has been slapped around the face, and she feels tears prickle dangerously in her eyes; wanting nothing more than to scream at the woman that sits eerily calm before her to shut up. To demand that she beg forgiveness for speaking in such a way about her Queen. To envelop her into a tight embrace and plead in the voice of a child for this strange, wonderful, _irksome_ woman- who seems to know so _much_ and yet also so little- to please, oh please, never let her go.

"How far did you take that theory...?"

She breathes, and it is little more than whisper.

She means for the Sheriff to elaborate on her relationship with Baelfire; Emma having claimed that he had used her, but she doesn't want to approach the subject outright. She regrets her ambiguous wording when met with the younger woman's response.

"The 'homes between homes'- the ones where they bunk you up and decide where to ship you off next after the last place failed- they'd always say the same thing... Some kids, they'd get 'oh you're just so polite, we should have no problem finding you somewhere this time'. Some kids it's cute, some it's clever, some it's mild-mannered, but what they mean by _that_ is a couple of cards short of the deck, but in a vague, hazy, _easy_ way... Me; it was always 'pretty'. Always. 'Oh, Emma, you're such a _pretty_ , little thing, I'm sure you'll just make their hearts melt!'... And... Well... _Sometimes_ the husband or father or whatever would agree... But, hey, it was my talent, so why not?!"

She hisses bitterly, and the brunette grabs a hold of a pale hand that gestures wildly as the blonde becomes animated in her anger.

".. _.How_ many times? Surely they must have kept an eye on you if something like... _That_... Happened?!"

"You seem to be overestimating the system, but, yes, maybe if I'd said something they'd have kept tabs or whatever-"

"-You never _said_ anything?!"

"If it makes them like you; do it."

The younger woman replies tonelessly, and Regina closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip.

"Emma..."

"It doesn't matter. It never worked... I still got bounced around. Which means either I was _that_ much of a burden to keep around, or I just wasn't _that_ pretty after all."

It is a cold, placid tone she uses as she vocalises this sentiment, and, just as she herself had looked upon the Mayor and imagined her as she must have been in her youth, so now the brunette does when looking at her; sharp features downturned and sullen. Posture slouched and defensive. The hand that had been held in hers pulled away and crossed moodily under the Sheriff's chest.

"...You're pretty; I've seen you in about as many lights as you could see a person, and you've always been pretty... You're hard... I don't believe for a _second_ you ever took life lying down, whether you lived by that motto or not... What one does when desperate does _not_ speak for their character in its entirety, Emma... It will anger you if I tell you that you are- and I will plead presumptive and say 'were' also- a very troubled young woman... It may _anger_ you, but it doesn't mean that it's not _true._ Nor does it mean you can't also be strong, and have fought tooth and nail to get through it...

If I knew _nothing_ about you apart from what little I knew a couple of days after you arrived in town- who you were- I would still have found you to be entirely _mad_ should you not have been troubled... would I have _cared_? No. And I didn't... But it says nothing about your abilities or you as a person that you are. You are an amazing person... But a troubled child- a broken toy- will inevitably be cast aside in a world where none of the hands through which she passes have any real interest to begin with.

You tried to put the pieces back together, I know... But Emma, the thing is, a _child_ , when it fixes a broken vase- a smashed up toy- will use excessive amounts of sticky tape, and globs of putty, and messy slathers of glue. The parts will hold, but _no one_ is fooled, really... An adult knows how to do things a little more delicately. With a little more finesse... That way... You can barely see the cracks..."

Holding out her hand once more, she smiles warmly when the blonde takes it; watching Emma's thumb rub repetitively over her first two knuckles as she swallows audibly.

"Thank you..."

"You are most welcome, dear."

The Mayor responds, giving the hand in hers' a firm squeeze before letting go to pluck up her wine glass. She studies the Sheriff over the brim; watching as Emma gathers herself and mentally checks that all parts are working and looking as they should.

Regina can almost pin-point the _exact_ moment the younger woman's psyche brushes itself off and accepts a draw, and the blonde sniffs as she teases lamely

"Ok, my turn... What's with cutting off all of Mary Margaret's hair?"

* * *

The remainder of the evening is a blur of lights, cold winter air and wine sipped in a quieter, more stylish bar. A few more personal facts are learnt on either side, but the questioning is tentative; their topics so far leaving the blonde fretting that talk may turn to Neal, and the Queen struck by the uneasy notion that Emma might suddenly turn around to her and voice the opinion that, were it not for the curse, she would unlikely have been through what she has divulged tonight.

Of course, she knows the Sheriff would never say such a thing... Not anymore.

She is just unsure whether she would find such an accusation to be entirely unjust.

Sensing a lull in their chatter as they finally make their way a little tipsily back towards the motel; Emma pauses for a second, studying the brunette's withdrawn, pensive expression, before pulling the darker woman swiftly into the darkened cove of an alleyway to their right. Crashing her lips down heavily into Regina's, she speaks with some difficulty against nipping teeth and duelling tongue.

"Finding out about Neal aside... I want you to know... This has probably been one of the best days of my life..."

Neither of them mention that as a mother, it would be logical for Henry's birth to take this prime position.

Nor do they mention the fact that less than a week ago the younger woman's gruelling search and aching for a family was finally answered.

They don't mention these things as, for Emma, the trauma of Henry's birth could never compare to the first time the two of them had properly connected; properly found that missing bond.

They don't mention these things, because in _reality_ , the Saviour's search for a family had ended not in the breaking of the curse, but on that afternoon when the Queen had relented and granted her the day with her son.

When Regina had come crashing through into that hateful apartment looking for her.

No... They say none of this, but instead simply smile, as the blonde's warm weight pushes the Mayor hard against the wall in a sweet but promising fashion.

Brushing aside a stray curl of hair from the younger woman's flushed cheek, Regina purrs against softly parted lips.

"Well then... I sincerely hope that this date ends with an invitation up into the bedroom."

A denim-clad thigh works its way swiftly between her legs in response as the blonde growls against her scarlet smirk

"Hmmm... Let's see shall we?"


	102. Chapter 102

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you guys all had lovely holiday fun times! I'm sorry that I was unable to finish this for Christmas as I'd planned; unfortunately I've had my hands rather full of child and dogs- not literally... I probably wouldn't tell you all that...- and it just didn't work out. I really don't want to rush this, so I'm just going to continue on as if Christmas never happened, and hope you will all forgive a little continual festive cheer as it is yet to come to pass for these ladies!
> 
> This is another one of those split scene chapters I never know how to label, with the scene featuring Bae and Gold taking place earlier on in the day during the 'date' scene last chapter. Regina and Emma's scene is the fun that came after... Enjoy! And please review! :)

"She won't be in there, Bae..."

Gold sighs as he follows his son down the worn-carpeted hallway leading towards their motel bedrooms. The man before him walks with determination- shoulders hunched up and defensive, expression hard and set- and he recognises none of these traits from their life together all those years ago, but yet knows he is entirely to blame.

Neal has remained true to his word; offering no real response to any of the pawnbroker's attempts at communication- save asking for the blonde's room number- as he has continued on in his search for the Sheriff.

So far, his efforts have been fruitless.

Following Emma's fleeing of the scene back in the alleyway, the attractive brunette whom his father had introduced as none other than Regina the Queen had split from them also. She had taken her leave with a fretful, yet firm warning directed towards the little man, that had echoed chillingly off the rain-dampened brickwork.

 _Your excuses and reasonings can wait, as can your little heartfelt reunion. Right now, Miss Swan needs to be found... You saw her face; she shouldn't be left to go off alone as she was... Either help to find her or don't... But I will tell you this; if you_ ever _raise a hand to her again; I will see it as a_ personal _request that you wish to see which of us could destroy the other... And I will have you_ begging _for mercy..._

He has a feeling her words had been meant for _him_ too in a way.

His father had responded with the wary sentiment that she should calm down and get a hold of herself; assuring her that no one was looking to harm the young woman now absent from the scene.

Regina had counteracted with the stern opinion that bringing a cane down in the way he had done- with the will to injure her as badly as he'd wanted to do at the time- led her to believe otherwise; snapping throatily that it had sure as hell been enough to send Emma tearing off without word.

_That sound... The sound of wood coming down on flesh... True; it spoke of pain... And yet..._

And yet, it hadn't been his father that sent Emma running.

It had been him.

She had run off because of him.

It has been a great many years since he last saw her... But, still... The truth hurts.

"Come on, son... Leave whatever business you have with Emma be for now... Please... You and _I_ have so much to catch up on..."

Throwing the little man behind him a dirty look, he remains set on his mission to track down Emma before he even _thinks_ about immersing himself any deeper into this insanity, and raises his fist to pound stubbornly on the middle of the three doors that grace the hall.

"Emma?... You in there? Open up... Come on... We need to _talk_!"

He is met with nothing but silence, and he supposes he is somehow aware of the simple fact that she isn't behind the flimsy wood on which he knocks.

This reality only has him pounding harder; wanting release from the sudden madness threatening to once more close its wings over his life, in the form of anything- _anyone-_ but the slippery little imp behind him.

"She's not in there, son..."

"Shut up!"

"... And besides... As our friend, the Queen, so rightfully said; she won't want to speak to you right now... Miss Swan is not a woman to be rushed into _any_ form of emotional reunion- in fact, I suppose there is more evidence to _that_ fact than with most, given recent events- but eventually she'll have to-"

"-What do _you_ know about her? Why is _she_ with _you_?"

Bae whirls round and snarls, and Gold notes with some curiosity the very distinct expression that alights his boy's face.

Protectiveness.

_Interesting._

Letting out a low sigh, he taps his blunt-nailed fingers thoughtfully over the handle of his cane and regards the other man sombrely.

"... I haven't seen you in a great many years, Bae... As such, I hadn't imagined _Emma_ would be our first subject of discussion... But, I will answer your question along with any others you must have... She is here of her own free will- oh, she owed me a small favour, I admit- but she has not been forced in the ways you might be thinking... A lot has changed over the years, son; myself being one of them... Miss Swan's past is an interesting one-"

"-She's from our world..."

Gold raises an eyebrow high up towards his hairline and then nods.

"The daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming... The Saviour..."

"Who?"

"Before the curse the Evil Queen set upon the land, if the Enchanted Forest had been a chess board, they would have been the key pieces if you will... Snow White is the reason for Regina's anger that led to the curse being set upon the land in the first place."

"... She didn't _seem_ evil... And Emma seemed quite friendly towards her...?"

"Oh, indeed, Miss Swan _is_... People change... The past unravelled itself and-"

"-But what business do _you_ have in all of this?"

"... _That_ is a question that is going to require some explaining, Bae... Come... Let's get you cleaned up and I will explain what I can..."

Once again, he moves to place a hand on the younger man's shoulder, and this time it doesn't get shrugged off, but rather slips away as Bae slumps defeatedly; only now aware of the dull throbbing in his nose as his injuries are mentioned.

The brunet sighs.

He supposes he can't very well keep walking around the city with gore-encrusted features, and so allows himself to be led into the room adjacent to the blonde's.

He allows himself to be led...

But not _once_ does he turn his back on the Dark One.

* * *

Despite her request to be invited up to continue their evening in the privacy of the blonde's bedroom, there is an unspoken moment of hesitation as the two women reach the three doors that line the hall of the motel, before they slip into Regina's room; furthest from Gold's.

The Mayor notes a slight change in Emma's mood as the reality of the situation is once more brought crashing down upon them, but then that fearful glimmer of unease is replaced by something darker, and the younger woman pushes her firmly against the wall in much the same way as she had done down in the alley.

They have left the lights off, and everything is indigo shadowed midnight, and each is curiously reminded of the time spent in the older woman's drawing room after the embers had died, the first time they'd tasted each other and what was to come.

It is a deep kiss; long and slow, before the need for oxygen becomes too great to remain moulded together the way that they are.

Regina lets out a small noise of wanting, and the Sheriff slips a hand down between them to play over the luxurious wool of expensive dress pants. Her ministrations are slightly jerky- firm, hard circles with her cupped palm- and the brunette lets out low, shuddered breaths that whisper over the younger woman's softly parted lips.

Emma steps forwards so that she presses heavily flush into the darker woman- never faltering in the movements she makes with her hand- and the latter hooks her arms over slender shoulders- her fingers slipping through golden tresses- as the blonde lowers her mouth to the delicate flesh just beneath the Mayor's earlobe; nipping, oh so gently, and then soothing electric heat with her tongue.

Moving her hips slightly to encourage the Sheriff's firm, delicious circles of her sex, Regina moves her jaw breathlessly to the side- impeding the younger woman's attentions clumsily- and places a sweet, tender kiss on the skin which is easiest accessible to her; at the latter's aristocratically high cheekbone. Continuing to play with loose, tousled curls, she uses one hand to smooth thick, dishevelled hair away from the blonde's face- creating a long sheaf of cornsilk that cascades down her back- while the other slips beneath this silken warmth to cup the back of Sheriff's neck; her thumb rubbing gently at the sensitive flesh just below the hairline at her nape.

She marvels at how long Emma's hair has grown- the very last wisps gracing the small of her back- and knows her own hangs just short of her shoulders; neither of them having had the thought nor time to keep such things in check with the ever chaotic and turbulent throws of their relationship.

She makes a note to get her own rich locks seen to upon their return to Storybrooke, but bares no ill feelings towards the way the Sheriff's own mane coils and tumbles in a brilliant display of unruliness that suits its owner faultlessly. Nor does she have any adverse opinion towards the way rich gold ebbs out into slightly silvery flaxen tresses- the difference between the shades noticeable, but unfairly unobtrusive- as this acts in her head as a strange sort of visual milestone of when this all began.

"... I love you..."

The words catch her off guard; not because they express anything new to either of them, but simply because she had been unaware she'd planned on saying anything at all.

The attention being lavished upon her below intensifies, and then that skilful hand unclasps and unzips expensive wool to allow warm fingers to slip into her underwear; eliciting a harsh breath that shudders from deep within her lungs to ghost over the blonde's soft cheek. Emma removes her tongue from the darker woman's quivering pulse point and grazes her earlobe gently with sharp teeth, before whispering huskily into that perfect shell

"Why?"

Regina blinks, as she senses no challenge in the Sheriff's low inquiry, but also deems the question to be anything but rhetorical. Struggling against the distracting warmth that coils divinely within the pit of her stomach, she intensifies her embrace and growls wetly into the younger woman's flesh; soft skin and high bone already slightly moist from her lust-induced panting.

Her own teeth skim and nip as she does so.

"Because... You can make me laugh and you can make me cry within the space of seconds... Because you're beautiful in every way a person can be beautiful ... Because you... You've made me back into... Into h-how I used to be... How I once was..."

Her tone is rich with the result of the fire building between her legs, but her lashes have become salted, and she doesn't think she's ever found the answer to a question to come so _easily,_ yet mean so much.

For a moment she is rewarded no response to her admission other than the sweet entrance of one slender finger into her silken heat, but then warm lips find hers once more and she smiles against them as she continues to tease soft curls gently.

"But _you're_ the Saviour, dear... You're the 'light'... The question for _you_ must be why would you love the dark... Why do _you_ love _me_?"

Emma hesitates- completely still but for her ever attentive fingers down below- and Regina wonders if she will be denied an answer to her mirroring question. It would not be out of character for the Sheriff to fall short on such a request, and she tells herself that she _knows_ that Emma _does_ love her, and that her own demand for an answer is greater than the blonde's had been, for the simple reason that words and the vocalisation of emotion do not elude and torment her the way they do the younger woman. Nevertheless, she yearns to hear what those words might be, and she sighs contently when the body pressed against hers seems to relax a little; understanding that the Sheriff's hesitation is due to nothing more than the careful structuring and re-structuring of her answer in her head.

"Because you like to test me... Only... For _you_ , my 'best'... It was good enough when it mattered... You've refused me, confused me, amused me... You can be dark, and at one time, you could be cruel, but you always made sure to come and pick up any pieces if you thought you might have stomped on them a little _too_ hard... You've put me in my place, but you've also put me _first_... And you make me _happy_... You've _changed_ me from the person I used to be... From how _I_ once was..."

Regina smiles and tugs gently at the younger woman's bottom lip with pearly teeth before nipping down with a little more force as an additional two fingers are slipped in to join the first and the blonde's thumb finds her clit.

"... _And_ because you're smokin' hot, of course..."

Emma withdraws her lip and growls into the dark waves of her hair- chuckling low- and the brunette lets out an exasperated sigh that swiftly becomes a moan.

Slim fingers move faster, and the Sheriff finds the Queen's lips with her own, but- unlike in the past, when sounds of impending ecstasy have been swallowed and devoured- she simply presses her mouth gently to Regina's to allow a tactile barrier; the brunette thinning her own lips as her teeth clamp over them from inside as she makes small noises of pleasure that become ever more sporadic and breathless.

"W-wait!... I don't want to... I want to... With you..."

The Mayor's words are broken and raspy as she moves her head to the side to speak- her hips telling a different story- as her fingers open and close over soft tendrils. The Sheriff smirks with understanding- knowing that tonight things are different, and that their pleasure needs to be mutual and tender- before lowering her attention once more to the tantalising swatch of bare, salted flesh at the darker woman's throat.

"Hmmm?"

"Emma... I... N-not like this... I want you to... I want you _too_..."

"I know... It's okay. It's not past my bedtime yet..."

She sarks wickedly, before using her thumb with greater earnest and sucking lightly at the smooth expanse where neck meets shoulder, causing Regina to shudder against her before closing her fists tightly over the long hair in her grasp; eliciting a small yelp from the blonde to harmonise her own subdued cry.

The Mayor clings on to slim shoulders and silken tresses a moment longer- her breath harsh and frantic- before she pushes the younger woman away with a bemused glower. Noting the way several, long strands of hair fall from her fingers, she sighs, and tucks an unruly curl gently behind the Sheriff's ear.

"Sorry..."

Emma grins- pink tongue flickering between her teeth in the shadows- as she decides not to bother pointing out that a little roughness has never been amiss in her book. Sensing the reason for the other's smirk, the brunette rolls her eyes and pushes herself from against the wall; claiming a rough kiss and running her hand swiftly up beneath the younger woman's sweater.

"You are _wicked_..."

"Sometimes, but you _love_ me, remember?"

"... Sometimes..."

"Hmmm... "

"Shush."

Regina admonishes with no real reprimand, as she offers a small smile and slips gracefully from her pants and ruined underwear. Green eyes glitter in the darkness as Emma watches her, and she sniffs arrogantly as she moves her attention to her top and removes it with similar poise.

"You're being _very_ one-sided, my dear..."

She offers as she stalks towards the bed in a whisper of perfect, olive flesh and takes a seat on the edge of the mattress, slender legs crossed elegantly one over the other; waiting expectantly. The blonde raises an eyebrow in response, before walking slowly over to stand before her.

A flicker of first confusion, and then surprise crosses the Mayor's delicate features as- rather than interpreting her meaning- the Sheriff falls to her knees with peculiar grace.

"What are you-"

But she receives her answer as pale hands find her knees and manipulate her legs into spreading open. In the frantic city lights that give the room its eery glow, the soft glimmer of her spilt excitement glistens like an offering. She watches silently as the younger woman works with slow leisure to clean her up; stomach knotting and arousal building demandingly at the sight of dusky pink velvet trailing across flesh.

When she feels she wears no further damning glitter but that which has come from the blonde's own tongue, she tugs at long hair gently, regarding the younger woman with intent curiosity; her voice low when she speaks

"-Not _quite_ what I meant, dear..."

Emma simply shrugs, but takes heed of the way brilliant, dark eyes fall to her clothes pointedly.

Stripping herself free of cotton, wool, denim and lace, she stands before Regina patiently as the latter leans back to observe her greedily.

"Better?"

The Sheriff asks coyly, and the brunette laughs lightly, before moving herself gracefully up the bed. She waits- eyes dark with promise- for the blonde to take her cue and join her. It doesn't take long; Emma climbing up onto the sagging mattress and crawling down to straddle slender hips with an appreciative sigh as nothing separates her own heat from the Queen's.

She leans down to reclaim full lips hungrily, but a firm hand pushes her gently back up so that she sits with her legs splayed wide, looking down curiously; heavy waves falling down to cover her breasts demurely.

Regina smiles and runs her hand over the sharp peak of the younger woman's left hipbone, and up the flat contours of muscle that cast exaggerated shadow in the flickering darkness.

"How in the world you have the body that you do after bearing a child is beyond me..."

She stiffens as soon as the words have left her lips, and from the sudden clench to the Sheriff's jaw she senses she's not alone in her sudden, uncomfortable limbo. Things have changed drastically over the past few days- past few weeks, even- but this is still the first time that the visceral reality of Henry's birth has ever come up between them in so many words. Emma lowers her eyes beneath dusky lashes and the brunette swallows silently, before running an experimental finger down one of the faint silver lines marring the younger woman's side.

"I'm sure many women would envy you-"

She continues steadily, as her other hand joins in tracing patterns on the opposite side of skinny hips; the slight pressure she applies here and there coaxing the blonde into moving above her gently.

"-Though I suppose not _everyone_ could be as stubborn as you in getting your figure back- or any _other_ walk of life- or the world would be a rather terrifying place..."

She smirks as she runs her thumbs simultaneously down strong obliques, and Emma sighs- a little raspily due to her movements- and shakes her head.

"...I've just always been skinny..."

"No. _I'm_ slender... 'Skinny' if you prefer... You-"

"-I wasn't as toned before Henry... Like I said, I've always been skinny- I only have to _look_ at a pair of sneakers or drive past the gym and I've lost weight- but it was different after having a kid... Like... A different _shape_..."

"You were uncomfortable?"

"It wasn't _that_... It was just... It was like having a tattoo for a really shitty relationship or something... A visual reminder that's always there to jump up and bum you out... I didn't want to have to think about it... About _him_..."

She shrugs awkwardly, and the brunette reaches up and pulls her back down so that she hovers with just a few inches between her nose and Regina's; the darker woman running soft palms down her back to rest companionably over her backside.

"Emma... Why did you give him up?"

She inquires softly; testing the waters.

"...I just wasn't ready to be a mother..."

"... No... If that were the case, you'd have let being 'skinny' suffice... You would have sent Henry home via a cab rather than taking him back to Storybrooke..."

"... I was in jail..."

"... Not for that long..."

"... No."

"..."

"Neal left me... The _one_ person that I trusted... The one person that had led me to believe _I_ was... I dunno... Worthwhile, or whatever... They fucked _off_... _Yes_ , they screwed me over and got me in trouble for something I didn't do... But I'm not angry about that-"

"-He got you sent to _jail_!-"

"-Yes... But that wasn't what _hurt_. What hurt was that he left... He could have just never shown up- cops or no cops- and that would have been almost the same... Not _quite_ as bad, but still that same feeling of, like... Something being _wrong_ with _me_... My whole life it was like there was something wrong with me, that made people not want to be around me... I thought he was _different._.. And then... And then he left... With the baby, it wasn't an easy decision... Don't think for a _second_ I wasn't scared that what happened to me would happen to my kid... That's why I wanted a closed adoption. Not so that if it didn't work out, it could never be made _my_ problem... But, because I figured... If a candidate asked for that option then... I don't know... Then they wanted to pretend the kid was their _own_... They wanted to be a _mother.._. It was flawed thinking, sure, but I was _eighteen,_ and it was the best I could do. I didn't want for a child to have to put up with whatever was wrong with _me_..."

"... And if he- if Neal- if he hadn't left you? Would you have-"

"-If he'd stayed... Hell!... If he'd had a _reason!_ An _explanation_! Then... No... I would never have done it..."

"... That's why you hit him..."

"I was angry... I _am_ angry..."

"Because he lost you your child..."

"...And made me a hypocrite in the process..."

The brunette shakes her head and pulls the younger woman down to her roughly; claiming downturned lips with firm vigour before rolling them so that she lies on top of the Sheriff.

"Then you _tell_ him that. You tell him, and you tell Gold, just what a despicable thing that man did to you. You tell him it goes deeper than jail, deeper than standing you up like you said to him back in that alleyway. You tell him just what it is that he did to you... But don't _you_ go feeling guilty about something like that, you hear me? Ever!... Emma...I don't want to seem selfish and tell you that things worked out for the best, as I know that-"

"-Why? I would agree with you..."

Regina stills, raising a well-defined brow, as she speaks with genuine surprise

"You would?"

"I don't know what would have happened afterwards, Regina... I'd _love_ to say I'd have turned my life around, and that Neal is the 'sole evil' in all this, and that I would have done the right thing, and bucked up... But, I can only tell you what _did_ happen, which was more of the same. More screwing around and drinking and getting up to no good... Just like you thought!"

She grins at this, but it is a strained grin, and the brunette devours it swiftly.

"What? That you're an unruly force to be reckoned with... Oh, Miss Swan, I don't just _think_ it... I _know_ it!"

"Ha! You've actually only ever seen me very, very tame..."

"Well, then I _shudder_ to think what I might have seen should you have deviated form being anything but your timid and _oh_ so docile self..."

She gives a theatrical demonstration of what this might look like, and is finally rewarded with a more natural chuckle, which she takes as a cue to begin moving her hips once more against the blonde's; kissing her sweetly before using her arms to push herself up slightly and gain a little more leverage.

Strong fingers find her hips and the soft, smooth skin of her backside to help her along.

She slips a hand between them to sate the Sheriff's warmth and provide herself greater friction.

"Uhuh... I d-definitly think things worked out okay..."

Emma sarks breathlessly, and the Queen shuts her up with a hard bite to her clavicle- inwardly dismissing the vague notion that she might just be marking her territory in terms of the hateful young man the Dark One has bought amongst them- and rapid, jerked movements of hand and hips.

It doesn't take long.

When the blonde crashes over the brink of climax, she growls the darker woman's name into lust-dampened tresses; sending Regina falling right along after her.

They lie in the dark for a while without moving- the Mayor breathing heavily as she remains splayed over gently parted thighs, with her head rested in the hollow of the Sheriff's shoulder.

Finally, Emma stirs them, rolling out from beneath the brunette, before surprising her as she reaches down to pull the covers over the two of them seemingly without a second thought. Shuffling around to get comfortable- her calf swung over the younger woman's ankle as the latter's knee rests low between her own- Regina studies the blonde in the dim glow of the city lights, smiling as the Sheriff finds her gaze sleepily.

"I had a nice time tonight... Thank you..."

"... Told you I'd woo you..."

"Yes... Indeed you did..."


	103. Chapter 103

When the brunette awakens, the bed is warm, and the scratchy, over-laundered cotton feels inexplicably good against her bare flesh. She flutters her lashes open slowly- a smile already finding her full lips- presuming that the Sheriff will still be deep in slumber beside her, what with it still being before eight am.

As it is, she is met with nothing but the vacant, white expanse of a rather rumpled top sheet, and the heavy folds of the pushed back throw. Frowning, she rolls over onto her back stiffly and raises herself up onto her elbows to find the younger woman casting an eerily pale silhouette between the bed and the door; her stance curiously combative.

"Emma?"

She murmurs curiously- wondering just what has roused the blonde and herself in the first place- before she catches the low voices that have presumably lent the Sheriff her animalistic caution.

_...Emma...Come on! You need to talk to me! Please... Just open the door...You cant-_

_-Son, she's not in there..._

_How do you know?_

_Because she's in here..._

And then footsteps crescendo towards their door at an alarming pace, and the blonde throws back a look of naked panic, before two things happen:

The door swings open, despite its need for a room key to garner entry, and Emma finds herself swiftly engulfed in a purple haze before she stands -frozen- with her jaw dropped; clad in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Emma..."

Bae inquires nervously, and she whirls round to face the door with her teeth bared; the brunet and the pawnbroker waiting at the threshold.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

She growls, and Regina slips swiftly from beneath the covers- now suddenly clad in clothes similar to those she had worn the night before- to stand behind her; eying Gold caustically.

"You had no right to do that, Gold..."

"It was rude, and I apologise... Fortunately, I didn't 'interrupt' anything-"

A poisonous glower from the two women and a confused frown from the man that stands a little in front of his father beside the dresser.

"-But I gave you your time to come to terms with the curious fact that there exists a previous relationship between the two of you, Sheriff... Your continual absence and negation to at least _pretend_ to be civil is rude also-"

"-Emma, please... I... This is all _crazy_... I _know_ that... And I know you're angry with me, and you have _every_ right to be... But please... Just give me a couple of hours... That's all I ask. Just let me explain why I did it..."

Bae interrupts- dark eyes wide and pleading- and the blonde hates herself as some lost, forgotten, younger part of her psyche melts and ripples with desperate joy; a voice dusty with lack of use piping up shrilly ' _He's back! He came back for you! It's going to be okay now! You're loved! You're safe! You're neede-_ '

"-I shouldn't give you that right...-" She interrupts that hateful chirping coldly, "-Not after all this time... But I will. You can explain why you did what you did. You can tell me what was so fucking important... You know, I almost-... No. We're not doing this now... You want to spin me a story, then you can buy me a drink and do so... But we talk _alone_. Not in front of him."

She points to Gold, who raises his palms in mock surrender with an expression that suggests he finds the Sheriff's hard tone pathetically droll.

Regina takes a step forward so that she stands almost directly behind Emma and addresses the little man with stern warning

"You and I need to discuss a few matters also, Gold..."

"Oh, now why doesn't _that_ surprise me? You know, I do believe young Emma has expressed the wish that you desist jumping to her-"

"-This has nothing to do with _young_ Emma. This has to do with the intricacies of what you've done... I have questions, and you _will_ answer them."

"Oh my! Such power! Such Orders! Tell me, Sheriff, is this one of your turn ons? Do you get Madame Mayor here to tell you what to-"

"-Get out."

The blonde hisses with a flash of teeth that speaks of murder. Again, Bae looks at her with that confused frown- just about bordering on comprehension- and she supposes that this at least answers the question of just how in-depth Gold's explanations as to the current situation have been. Pulling herself to her full height, she draws herself up to the pawnbroker threateningly- the brunette that watches on not missing the faint look of familiarity and appreciation that touches the younger man's face as he too plays voyeur- and looks down on him with a snarl.

"You and I are _through_ , Gold. I've given you what you wanted... Now make good on your _own_ word, and leave Regina and I be... We have no more business, you and I.

Behind her, Regina thins her lips as she wonders how true this might be once Gold learns of Henry's paternity.

The little man himself simply bows in a way that is almost insulting before regarding the Sheriff pensively.

"Hmm... Just how do you plan to get _home_ , Miss Swan, if you and I are to avoid each other as you _so_ desire."

She offers him a thin smile and raises an arched brow.

"Public transport?"

Her reply is dripping with sweet honey, and the pawnbroker finds his eyes flashing to the scars that mar skinny wrists before wetting his lips and holding her cool gaze with his dark one.

"I see. Well, in that case, I offer you a parting note of gratitude... You did well, dearie."

Holding out his hand with a wry smile, Emma looks down at the proffered appendage icily before tossing back her hair and grasping it in her own; a knowing smirk crossing irritable features as she allows him to shake it.

"I always do."

Is the simple, cool answer, and, while neither of them are aware of the incident; Regina and Bae both cock an eyebrow at her response.

Looking over to the younger man that stands aside watching her a little too intently for her liking, the Sheriff snaps at him in a businesslike fashion.

"If you want to talk, I'm going to want to _drink_ , and I doubt you want to do that at seven in the morning. Gold has my number; text me where you want to meet. Twelve o'clock... Don't fuck it up."

Bae recoils slightly- having learnt hard and fast over the last twenty-four hours that the blonde has changed, but never having thought she would have become as glacially cold as he has seen her- while the little man beside him chuckles mirthfully.

"Ah, young love... So be it. Miss Swan, Your Majesty... Good day to you both for now..."

He takes his leave- beckoning his son along behind him, before turning his jaw to speak over his shoulder with impish cruel humour

"Oh... And _loving_ the ensemble, Sheriff... Most _enjoyable_..."

Before closing the door behind him.

Emma frowns, running a hand through her hair and looking down to study herself irritably. Without the adrenaline of the two men encroaching on her space, she notes that she doesn't recognise the soft cotton that clings to her frame at all, as well as imagining she also has a _fairly_ good idea as to the cause of Gold's glee, and she turns to the brunette with a low sigh.

" _Really_?..."

Regina shrugs, not knowing whether to chuckle or give in to the red anger so quick to make itself known as she notes what she has let the others in on.

"Sorry, dear, I worked with the time I had. Magic doesn't work in the way where I could have just swept your clothes off the floor and dressed you-" she inwardly breathes a belated sigh of relief that their _actual_ discarded garments reside on the other side of the bed; lace and silk, strewn and ruined, mercifully hidden from view "-I had to conjure up something from my imagination..."

Emma raises an eyebrow, plucking at the thin, pristinely white fabric that clings to her sinfully; allowing a generous strip of midriff to peak out over the top of curious, indigo jeans.

"...And _in_ your imagination... I don't wear underwear?"

She sarks, placing her hands on her hips and looking down pointedly.

"Usually? No... But I assure you this was simply a case of having to work unusually quickly."

"... Hmm... Well I suppose I can't get _too_ mad... Thanks..."

"Not a problem... Though it's not as though Baelfire hasn't seen such sights for himself..."

The note of irritation in the darker woman's tone is tangible, and the Sheriff swiftly bites back her awkward, catty taunt of asking the Mayor if she might be jealous.

It's a moot question.

She _knows_ she is.

Instead, she replies without a single hint of humour

"A long time ago... And he won't be seeing them again."

Regina sighs, and then offers a kinder smile.

"... I know that really, dear."

"Mhmm... _You_ however..."

"What about me?"

"Well-" The blonde quips; plucking at the hem of tight cotton and shucking it over her head with some difficulty due to its restrictive size- " _You_ can see such things whenever you want... And we still have... Hmm... Four and a half hours to spare..."

"Is that so...?"


	104. Chapter 104

Drumming blunt nails nervously on the cracked varnish of the booth's tabletop, Neal waits impatiently as his dark gaze flickers repeatedly back to the glass door of the bar. It is only ten past twelve, but he has been sitting at the table since half eleven due to nerves, and now turns to offer another dirty look at the man behind the counter that sneers down at the half-drunk beer he clasps in his free hand.

He supposes the fact that he sits alone with what could well be another drink in reserve does little to help his image.

Finally, the door swings open, and he raises a hand awkwardly to Emma who makes no move to return the gesture. Watching as she offers a brief nod towards the barman, he sighs, noting the fact she doesn't bother to address the man nor grant him a smile. He understands that this is New York, and that such niceties are not always expected, but the simple fact of the matter is that until yesterday, he has never witnessed Emma Swan opting not to grin disarmingly at _anyone_.

He tries offering her his own smile as she takes a seat opposite him, but is again granted no response. She simply nods her thanks as he gives up and slides her beer towards her and speaks quietly.

"Hi."

"...Hi..."

He struggles to find something more to say, before taking a suspiciously long drink from his glass and signalling towards the barman- who now seems a little less judgemental following the blonde's entrance- to bring over another. He tells himself that they are not, in fact, suffering in silence, but simply waiting for this small task to be accomplished before getting down to... _Whatever_ this is going to be.

Emma seems happy enough to go along with this act and stares pensively into the amber suds before her.

Neal takes advantage of her lowered gaze to finally grant himself a chance to observe her properly; without getting hit in the face or trying not to let his eyes fall to her chest with his father in the room.

He concludes that she still looks disarmingly pretty beneath her hard glamour; has _always_ been disarmingly pretty... But this had had little to do with why he had liked her in the first place.

No, that had all come down to the fact that when they had met, she had been everything he had wanted to be as a child; cheerful, untroubled, brave...

Carefree.

Of course, over time, he had slowly come to learn of the darker things in her life that had left her quite so bold and careless of consequence; the two of them once upon a time having spent many an evening talking long into the night, watching the moon go through its phases from the curious comfort of that old, stolen car... Now though, the memory leaves his throat suddenly dry, and, just as he imagines- despite her agreement to talk- that she will never be able to tell him all of the the things she might be thinking beneath that carefully cold exterior, he too will probably now never get an opportunity to confide in her the simple fact that he still thinks back on those long, wine-soaked nights in the bug with a terrible longing. To explain to her that, when out on a date- hell, even during the brief period a few years ago when he had been engaged to a young dancer from Brooklyn- there has forever seemed to be something _missing_. He imagines- as with he himself- that she has little time for stories these days, but he sighs as he is struck by that old realisation of long ago, that no matter how svelte and promising her body had been, he would have given it up- if ever such a choice were forced- to simply listen to her wild and fanciful tales of a magical world in which the knights were brave, the stallions fast, and the wizards were good.

She had always had the best stories... Mostly because 'stories' were all that they ever were.

Idiot princes, and sharp-mouthed damsels, and gender-confused dragons, and- his favourite- a deliciously kink-led colony of fairies... And not a dagger in sight.

He wonders if she remembers the way they had made that old car shudder with nothing more but the sheer force of their laughter.

He doesn't imagine this is the time to ask.

"You look... Good."

He offers gently; careful to make it abundantly clear in his tone that he in no way means to piss her off with such words. He breathes a sigh of relief when rather than snapping at him venomously, she just shrugs and places her hands down into her lap.

Thus, he is unaware of the way she plucks at the tight wool of her sweater nervously.

She sighs, scolding herself silently for fidgeting with her clothes- the plain, black cashmere lent to her by Regina after her stated wish to hide the purple graze the darker woman had left at her collarbone, and looking altogether suitably forbidding having paired it with her own black jeans and boots- and replies with just a hint of cattiness that instantly serves to lift just a little of the heavy cloud beneath which they fester

"I guess you look alright too, for a guy whose nose got broken..."

"It was a pretty decent punch, I'll give you that."

" _Pretty_ decent...?"

She raises a brow, and he rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair as the barman comes over with a fresh beer.

"Ok, it hurt like a son of a bitch, happy?"

"No, but that knowledge _does_ help a little..."

She replies silkily, but he doesn't miss the slight tick to the side of her jaw, and he relaxes just a little.

"Emma, I... I don't know where to start... But, I guess the first thing I should tell you- and I _know_ you don't want to hear it, but I'm going to say it anyway- is... I'm sorry..."

Cool green flickers up to offer him a sharp look, but then she sighs; crossing her arms over her chest, and regarding him solemnly.

"Okay... What for?"

"What do you mean?... I mean... I-"

"Oh, I know what you _should_ be sorry for... But I'm curious... I want you to tell me what you _think_ you should be sorry for..."

"I..."

"Tell me why you did it, Neal... Then I'll tell you what you _did_..."


	105. Chapter 105

_"Tell me why you did it, Neal... Then I'll tell you what you did..."_

Despite his confusion as a result of her wording, there is no ambiguity in her tone. The brunet regards the Sheriff warily- by now more than aware that he is about to find out things he perhaps doesn't wish to hear- but nods in acceptance of her terms.

Not that the request she poses is an easy one in the slightest.

"Why did I do it?... You make it sound like... Well, you make it sound so _simple_... It _wasn't_ simple, and, whatever you might think of me, I really do hope you'd know that... Emma, I _loved_ you... I've been around, well, for more years than you could conceive... I came from your world- from the Enchanted Forest- but the time I came from-"

"-I have _no_ interest in that world, Neal... For once... For _once_ I don't want to be sucked in to a goddamned sob story! Whoever 'Baelfire' was, well, maybe you can tell me sometime, but it has _nothing_ to do with my question! _So_ your life sucked? Mine did, too! I don't _care_ , Neal! I don't _care_ about the things you mumbled about when we were kids! I care about why you let things go the way they _did_! I didn't come here for a fucking story! I came to... T-to..."

Her voice cracks as she gestures desperately, and he takes her hand for a brief moment before she shakes her head and withdraws her fingers gently; her eyes begging him not to touch her again.

"Emma... I can't simplify it like that... I... It's all _linked_ , don't you see that? How? I don't know... But if you want to know what happened, you have to let me at least lay the foundation down... Please?... All I had meant to say is... There's more to me than what you know... Actually, I guess that makes _two_ of us... Only, _my_ story starts a long time before yours, and, during that time, I saw a hell of a lot, and I've come into the company of a great many people in my life, good _and_ bad... But you?... I _loved_ you; I did! And leaving you standing there... _Waiting_ for me... That was perhaps the second hardest thing I've ever had to do..."

Neal sighs, and takes a sip from his beer. His hand tingles from where pale skin had brushed against his own, and he wonders if she knows that for one so determined to seem untouched and hard, that her eyes speak volumes.

He imagines she is unaware.

Her mouth forms a hard line and her expression is stony, but her eyes... Well, her eyes are both just how he remembers them and hatefully changed, and he feels both elated and a little uncomfortable. They shimmer a hard, merciless green, and he has no trouble believing that she has heard the word 'bitch' spat at her a thousand times... _Just_ as he believes that such a title will just be wishful thinking on her part... He sees _behind_ that desperate defiance- sees who she'd been when he had first known her- and he bows his head so as not to be faced with that wary, wounded gaze any longer; glittering with the distrust of a woman simply _waiting_ to be left a pretty, broken mess once more.

He doesn't want to know how many men have left her regarding him with the expression she offers him now, as he fears that an answer of either too many, or too few would break his heart.

He doesn't want her to have been hurt in his absence...

But, most of all, he doesn't want to be the _reason_ behind that distrustful stare.

" _Second_ hardest... The first... The first was not turning myself in and taking your place as soon as I heard what had happened to you...I wanted to, Emma... I _did_! But... It wasn't past of the _plan_... It... I... I _couldn't_..."

"What _plan_ , Neal!? That's the second time you've said something along those lines, and I've got to tell you, that kind of talk isn't making me feel any better about this... It turns out it's something I have a lot of experience in- being part of someone else's 'plan'- and so far, it hasn't exactly worked in my favour!"

"I _know_... And I'm sorry... But I was told it had to be the way it went, Emma... I _had_ to let you go on to fulfil your destiny..."

" _Destiny_?!"

The Sheriff scoffs, offering the man opposite her an incredulous glower.

" _What_ destiny?"

"I don't _know_! I just followed orders!"

"Orders?! Orders from _who_?!"

"...Pinnochio..."

"Oh, of course! Because _that_ makes total sense-"

"-Emma... You have to understand that I had a history back in that other world... And when that man approached me and showed me _proof_ that he knew of that place also... It wasn't just a _story_ to me! I didn't _want_ for you to have any part of it, but he explained it was already much too late for all that... He explained that people _needed_ you... I... I didn't understand- I _still_ don't entirely understand- but I know enough to be sure that if I had kept you with me, if I had ignored him and just fenced the watches and done what _I_ wanted to do... I'd have been selfish... Because people were _relying_ on you to save them..."

"But maybe I didn't _want_ to save them!"

"Emma-"

"-Maybe I never _wanted_ people to _need_ me!"

"... You were the key to the curse Regina put on the land-"

"-Because _your_ father tricked her into doing it!"

"... I can't comment on that... _All_ I know is that _you_ never had a choice in the matter... That's how magic _works_ , Emma, and that's why I wanted to get _away_ from it! It comes at a price! Those people would have needed you whether you _wanted_ them to or not... And I _know_ you... At least I _did_... And I _know_ that deep down you would have made the same decision if you'd known the details... You would always have saved them-"

"-But that's just _it!_... No one ever _gave_ me that fucking decision to _make_! They just _left_ me! If... 'Pinnochio'... Told you... If he explained to you what had to happen- what I needed to do- then why didn't you _tell_ me?! Why didn't you tell me the _truth_?! Why did you let me think it was all _my_ fault?!... Or was that all part of the 'plan' too?"

"Yes... It was the way things were supposed to go, but... That's _not_ why I didn't tell you..."

"Then _why_?! If you had actually loved me, Neal... You would _never_ have done what you did..."

"I had no _proof_! Emma, if I had turned to you and tried to explain the ways of that other world- hell, tried to explain the _existence_ of that other world- you would have thought me mad! I only know what my father told me last night, but I _do_ know that it took a _fair_ bit of convincing even with a _great_ many clues right under your nose... And that's _not_ because you're easy to deceive, or a fool- I know _that_ much better than most- but because it's _crazy_! I don't know how _he_ managed to convince you in the end, but I'm sorry to say, he always was a man more cunning than myself, and-"

"-Who?"

"My father."

"... You think your _father_ convinced me?"

"... He didn't?"

Neal frowns- trying to play back Gold's exact wording as to the breaking of the curse- but realises the subject had barely been broached during their awkward conversation the night before. There had been many other topics for father and son to discuss, after all. Swallowing, he waits for the blonde to elaborate; Emma regarding him thoughtfully as though weighing up just how to answer him. He imagines that this is exactly what she's doing; knowing well enough that excitable chatter and words of deeper meaning reside in vastly different hemispheres of the blonde's mind.

Finally, she surprises him by laying her arms out across the table; proffering him her palms. He looks up at her in confusion when she swiftly pulls them away again as soon as he tries to take her hands.

"No... Pull up the sleeves a little-"

Offering her a wary glance rife with question, he does as he's told; feeling curiously shy edging up black wool to expose slender wrists, despite having occasionally ripped her clothes in his haste to remove them in the past.

His brow furrows deeply as he exposes twin circlets of scar tissue; a little more prominent on the right than on the left.

"-Your father did _try_ to convince me... In his own way..."

"My father... _He_ did this?!"

"The scarring was an accident, but the reason behind it was not."

"Fuck! Emma, I-"

"-You nothing. I didn't show you this for an opinion, but rather just to illustrate a fact. _Your_ fact. I'm angry, Neal, but I'm not _stupid_. I wouldn't have believed you... Not if you'd just told me about the fairytale thing... But, as you said, you had a history. You _knew_ things about that place. Things that might perhaps have been hard to explain away... Maybe I'd _never_ have believed you; I'm not saying it would have been anything so simple as showing me the odd thing piece of evidence here and there, I mean, I know damn well the _magnitude_ of what we're talking about here!... But, the thing is... You didn't even _try..._ You were afraid to try something that was attempted and persevered by a _ten_ year old... And you couldn't even give it a _shot_..."

"...Wait, a _ten_ year old convinced you?!"

"We're getting to that part. I-"

"-Okay! Okay, we're getting there, and I _know_ you're not done, but I have to say something-"

"-I don't want an excuse, Neal, I-"

"-And I'm not trying to _give_ you one. I just... You're angry, and I understand that... But _I'm_ not angry with _you_ , and I'm sitting here with you telling me how you felt and showing me that my father fucking _physically_ hurt you, and you're speaking like we're on even turf! Like you're having your go and then I get mine! Emma, you may hate me, or dislike me, or want me to drop down dead, but _I_ missed you! I _know_ you don't want to hear that, and we don't need to get into an argument about how badly I fucked up in showing it, because- believe me- I know... But I haven't catalogued and pushed away this stuff like you have. What I did could be argued to be bad, but I'm _not_ a bad guy, and right now I'm feeling pretty torn up inside about all this... I'm not telling you that because I want you to show me pity or feel anything other than the way you feel... But I _do_ need you to know it.

You said you felt like things were all your fault, and that _kills_ me. It was _never_ your fault, and it may be too late to say that now, but- again- I can't change that. I _did_ love you, and I'm sorry you had to feel that way. If I'd known how badly you felt... Shit, I don't know... Maybe I'd have-"

"-You didn't think I'd feel _shitty_ about it!?"

"Well, of course I knew you'd feel _hurt_! I got you sent to _jail_! I-"

"- _You knew about what happened to me!_ You knew about all that stuff from when I was a kid! And you couldn't figure out that you leaving me like that would make me feel like I wanted to fucking die?! You couldn't-"

"- _Please!_ I... I know! I was an _idiot_... I-"

"-I _waited_ for you!"

"What?"

"...I waited for you when I got out... And you know what's sad? Some naïve, idiot part of me allowed myself to hope that you'd actually _be_ there when I got released... I've spent years looking back on that day and telling myself that surely- _surely-_ I hadn't been _stupid_ enough to _actually_ look for you in the lot outside... But I _was_ stupid enough, and no one was there."

"Emma, I-"

"-So then eventually I found my way over to Tallahassee. _Another_ idiot move, but then, why not?! I mean, it's not like I had family or anything I would miss! What difference did it make to _me_?! I mean, I had a goddamn car, right? So why _not_ just hit the dirt and brood by the beach! I mean, sure, a part of me might have hoped that you'd somehow been unable to contact me, or find me, or whatever... And that foolish part _may_ have even wished that in such a case you'd somehow know to come and meet me where we'd planned... But, whenever that naïve, hateful voice piped up, it was _easy_ to tell her to shut up, because all I had to do was take a look around me at the shitty interior of that _fucking_ car, and realise that it wasn't a case of not being able to contact me at _all_ , but simply not _wanting_ to... Keys, but no letter... No explanation... And you're sitting here telling me _your_ heart hurts..."

"... I had no idea I hurt you that badly... If I'd known-"

"-Oh, I _wasn't_ finished..."

The blonde growls, and she wipes her eyes irritably with the back of her hand; frustrated at her body's mutinous lack of control. There is something therapeutic in vocalising the blackness that has curdled within her mind for so long, but there is also something distressing in how quickly her tongue has raced ahead of her thoughts. Her past is something she dwells on only in bite sized chunks, as, while she will privately admit she's accepted more than anyone's fair share of shit, she is outwardly not a fan of expressing this sentiment.

She doesn't _like_ talking about her life, and she doesn't _like_ feeling as though she is begging for sympathy.

She doesn't _like_ that she is ready for a second drink- when it is she who has done most of the talking- and that she's still not done getting everything off her chest.

There exists an inner fear in her heart of coming across as a charity case- of portraying herself as 'broken' in any way- that she just can't shake.

Because there are some people- _bad_ people- that like to feed off such weakness.

Not Neal, though.

She does know this.

She's just _tired_ now.

But she's almost done.

Neal watches as the blonde pulls herself back under control and refrains from sliding across a napkin. It may have been a good many years, but he had known her well, and he knows such an act will go down sourly. Instead, he waits for her to regulate her breathing and calls over another round, offering the barman a warning look when the man eyes Emma's pink eyes curiously.

"... Thanks..."

She mutters, and he nods slowly, waiting for her to continue, before prompting her when she merely stares into space.

"...You were getting to the part where a kid convinced you of what some asshole could not..."

"Oh, right... That part... Fine. But I have one more question before we get to that..."

"... Anything."

"...Did you _know_ who I was?"

"Pinocchio called you the 'Saviour'."

"But did you... I mean... Snow, Charming; my parents... Did you know they were here? Did you know that they... Did you know that they _wanted_ me?"

"No."

"... You swear?"

"...I knew that I had to let you fulfil the prophecy- that people were counting on you doing so- I didn't know any more than what Pinocchio told me, I give you my word... Whatever _that_ may be worth to you."

"I believe you."

"You do?"

"I _have_ to... If I didn't believe you, then I really _would_ want you to fall down dead... And recently I've not been feeling so willing to hate."

"That place... Storybrooke... It's done you good.. A place to call home?"

"It's not the place, it's the people... I have a family."

"I heard... I... I'm very happy for you... You deserve it... But, I can't quit thinking on the fact that you've told me you haven't finished with all you needed to say..."

Emma sighs, taking a sip from her beer before closing her eyes. When she speaks, she does so quietly, but clearly.

"When I saw you in the alleyway yesterday, I decided that _whatever_ happened, I'd find a way to keep this from you... But I'm not sure now- after talking it through with a friend- that you _deserve_ that luxury.

About three weeks after I was incarcerated, I got sick. Really sick. So, a bunch of bloodwork and crap got ordered- a waste of time really, I could have _told_ them what was wrong with me in a second if they'd _bothered_ to ask; eating and drinking just hadn't seemed all that interesting anymore, and that was all there was to it- but they went and used their fancy needles and medical terms anyway. I pretty much _knew_ what to expect from the results... But there was one thing that came back that I _wasn't_ exactly anticipating.

...I asked them to let me take just a regular pregnancy test to confirm it..."

She swallows, not sure entirely how else to word the whole belated 'honey, we're having a baby' thing. After all, it had been anything but 'wonderful' and 'great news' and there _certainly_ hadn't been any being lifted up into the father's arms and swung round like in the movies.

Rather, a warden waiting outside the door listening to her pee.

The thought suddenly strikes her as really rather amusing, and she lets out a hysterical giggle that turns into a sob as Neal stares at her, dumbstruck.

Finally, clearing his throat, he speaks hoarsely

"And it was positive?-"

Mentally kicking himself when met with her black glower, he mutters as he pulls at his hair fretfully

"-Of _course_ it was positive... Why else would you be telling me... I... Emma, I don't... I mean... _Fuck!_ "

"Well, it's good to know we had pretty much the same reaction, at least..."

"... I... I'm..."

"Don't tell me... You're 'sorry'?"

"... Emma..."

"If you're apologising for knocking me up, then that's pretty ridiculous. That's like occasionally not bothering to put on walking boots and then apologising to your shoes for ruining them."

"... I'm not apologising for that... Although I _do_ feel like maybe I should... I'm apologising for the fact that I wasn't around when you found out. I... Fuck... I mean... How did you... What did you...D-did you get rid of it?"

" _Him_... And no. I had some woman come in to discuss my options with me, which was basically 'Miss Swan, you _have_ no options'... I didn't get morning sickness until quite late into it all, so I'd not had any clue before they did the bloodwork and it was too late. They could probably still have aborted if it was medically necessary, but it carried a higher risk, and Arizona _really_ wasn't the best choice of place to be locked up with a bunch of women after 'murdering a baby'... I wasn't exactly on the _best_ terms with the local chain-meat as it was."

"... So you... You had the baby?!"

"Well he's not still in there!"

She snarls, but despite her choice of words, there is nothing humorous in her expression. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"So... I'm a _father?_ I have a _child_?!"

"Well, you have a kid walking around with some of your DNA... In _technical_ terms you're a father..."

"Shit... I mean, that's... That's... I don't even know..."

"I believe it's known as _science_."

"Emma... I... Where is he? What did you... I mean... What did you _do_?"

"What did I _do_?... What do you _think_ I did, Neal?"

"Well, I don't... "

"I put him up for adoption. I asked them to take him away."

"Em, I'm so... I don't know what to say... All I can say is that I'm sorry, and that doesn't carry the weight I want it to... I mean... I know you didn't want a child, but I _do_ understand it wasn't that easy- that _simple_ \- and I know that with your past, you-"

He trails off as the blonde begins to laugh. She shakes her head as she chuckles throatily, but there is something terrible about that sound and her cheeks are wet.

"You think I didn't _want_ a child?"

"Yes... No... You... You gave him up...?"

"It had _nothing_ to do with me not wanting a child!"

"But..."

"I _did_ want the child."

"Then..."

"I didn't want the _child_ not to want _me_... The same way _everyone_ else didn't..."

And then she really is crying- putting both hands up to hide her face- and suddenly it's like she's seventeen again. Neal clenches his jaw- his own lashes wet- and regards her wearily; the tip of her nose and the flash of her teeth just visible between the shadow cast by her palms.

"...Please don't cry... Emma?"

Worrying his lip when she doesn't respond, he glances over at the openly curious barman and makes a show of pulling a couple of notes from his pocket and placing them on the table. When the man nods in understanding, he turns back to the blonde and pushes himself from the table. Taking a loose hold of her wrist, he tries to pry it away gently, resting his other hand on her shoulder to coax her up.

"Come on, come with me... There's something that you really need to see..."


	106. Chapter 106

By the time they reach Neal's apartment, the blonde has stopped crying and follows along stiffly a step behind him. For a while she had allowed him to guide her with a gentle hand at her forearm, but only for so long as it had taken to pull herself back under control. Now, as he shakes out his keys and wrestles them into the large front door of the apartment complex, she simply waits silently with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She supposes that part of the reason she has allowed herself to be brought here is nothing more than simple exhaustion. She can only remember feeling this drained in her adult life _once_ before, and she wonders if the minimal space of recovery time between finding out the truth about the curse, and now following her young love into a dingy, ill-lit hallway might prove to have adverse affects on her health.

She smirks wryly at such a notion.

...And follows Neal into the elevator at the end of the hall.

They ascend in silence; Neal watching Emma, and Emma watching the orderly flashing of passing floors. When a shrill bell tolls to let them know that they have reached their destination, she moves awkwardly out of the way so that he may slip past her and lead them onwards. Stopping outside a nondescript, whitewashed door, he looks over his shoulder at his unwilling guest while inserting his key into the slot, muttering a little sheepishly

"It's a bit of a mess... I wasn't really expecting company..."

She shrugs, but doesn't commit any further, and he turns swiftly back to the door so that she won't witness the way his face falls.

He had known today would be difficult, and had known that she would be angry with him... What he had been unprepared for is just how much grief she has been carrying around with her for over ten years now, and her breakdown at the loss of her child is something he has no clue how to fix. Back in the old days, he supposes he might have held her, although, back then she had always seemed strangely indestructible, and it had been _he_ who had occasionally needed someone to turn to.

Opening the door, he stands aside to let the blonde in; holding his arm out for her coat, but finding no real surprise in the fact that she shakes her head and keeps red leather zipped up as high as the garment allows. Hanging his own windbreaker over a hook on the back of the door, he watches silently as her eyes dart about the room; cataloguing his things, his life, his possessions.

Him.

And he lets her; wondering what she might make of what she sees, but this new, grown-up version of his Emma is a closed book. It is only when her gaze falls upon something that hangs above his kitchen sink in the window that he catches a flicker of emotion behind cool, collected green, but still, she says nothing.

He doesn't miss the way she takes an involuntary step in that direction however, and he offers her a gentle nod of encouragement; watching as she gives in to her curiosity and pads over to pull down the dreamcatcher and examine it warily.

"To ward away nightmares... What a load of shit..."

She muses quietly as she turns the complex web over in her hands; fingering one of the beads thoughtfully.

"I didn't keep it for its mystical qualities..."

He offers softly from behind her, and she turns with the old keepsake in her hand to regard him with an unreadable expression.

"Well, perhaps that was a mistake..."

Sighing, he shakes his head, and beckons her wearily to follow him over to the small bedroom at the back of the apartment.

"No mistake, Emma... That dreamcatcher has hung in that window for the last three years- since I bought the place- just as it has hung in the countless places I've lived before this one..."

"I'm supposed to be impressed that you kept a novelty item swiped as a souvenir of a sly motel fuck?"

He grimaces- her words hurting him unexpectedly- as he remembers how much more had gone on in that dingy little room, and knows, deep down, that _she_ does too.

"No... Not impressed... Three days after you started living in the car with me- before we started going together- we stopped off at a gas station just outside of Glenfair and you came with me around the back of the building to use the restrooms and have a smoke... There was a chain-link fence back there, and we'd shared the better part of a bottle of Wild Turkey since leaving Portland and driving round, and by then I had started crushing on you pretty hard... When we went to leave, I scaled the fence rather than walk around it, even though it was about eleven feet of close-cut wire, remember?... And you?... Well, you came clambering right along after me- dress and all- and then you _stood_ there in the _middle_ of the parking lot and pointed out the faults in my technique... What I'm trying to say is...I couldn't impress you then, Emma, and I'm not trying to impress you now... This has nothing to do with your feelings towards me..."

"... Then why are we in your apartment?"

She inquires a little shakily, trying to put a stop to the sepia-toned picture reel playing maddeningly in her head. She is beginning to think this is a bad idea; having long ago swept Neal- and what had happened to her because of him- beneath one of the dusty floorboards of her mind. He had been right in his wording back in the bar; she has indeed catalogued his influence on her past, and she has labelled the resulting mess 'private and confidential; Do not open'... Only, now that she's faced with the man himself, there are _good_ memories that come with the bad, and she doesn't quite know what to do with this discovery.

"We're here for _you_."

"Uh... How's that?... Because, I'm not sure if I haven't been making myself clear here, but I'd really rather be _anywhere_ else right now... Like... 'Walking the plank over shark-infested water while being poked in the back with a stick' anywhere else..."

Neal pays this no mind; gesturing to his bed in a half-hearted request that she take a seat, before simply sighing as she remains where she stands and lowering himself down onto his knees to rummage around in the darkness cast beneath.

"We're here because you believe that I did what I did because I didn't love you or care about you... And, I need you to know that that isn't true... Not so that _I_ can feel any better about this- it's too late for that, I know that- but because of the way you were made to feel like you didn't matter... And you did, Emma..."

He keeps his head down as he speaks; not wanting to meet her eyes. He knows that what he will find there will be cold and unforgiving, but he _also_ knows that if he were to look up at her, he would find doubt, and- while the first two prospects hurt him in the same way that her fist had hurt him yesterday when making sharp contact with his face- the latter knowledge hurts his heart in the same way that lying awake last night and thinking on the fact that she had been just seventeen last time he'd seen her had hurt with such unexpected ferocity.

Pulling out a battered, unmarked cardboard box, he places it on the bed without a word, before moving back to sit against the wall and give her space.

"What's that?"

"Open it, take a look."

"Neal..."

"It's not a trick, Emma. It's not... It's just... It's just something I want you to see..."

Narrowing her eyes and silently cursing the frantic beating of her heart hammering away inside her chest, she inches towards the bed slowly, before thinning her lips and perching on the very edge of the mattress in an oddly prim fashion.

"...You know, when you do that, it makes you sound like you're trying to establish authority..."

She murmurs quietly, and the brunet frowns in confusion.

"When I do what?"

"You keep saying my name..."

"I... Well, I... I mean...I don't mean it like... _Shit,_ I just haven't _seen_ you in-"

"-It's alright, it's just kind of funny... Where I come from now there are only a handful of people that call me by my first name... My _friends_... And yet, here _you_ are throwing it into every other sentence."

"...Well... Then tell me what you'd rather I call you."

Neal answers in a low voice; thrown by her words. This new-found habit she speaks of is something he had been unaware he was doing, but to be called out on it is still decidedly unpleasant.

 _How did you ever_ get _this way...?_

But she has answered him this question already.

Ignoring his mumbled response, she runs a finger over the top of the box and bites her lip, before gently removing the lid.

"Oh..."

She is unsure what she had imagined would be inside, but the feeling as though she has been punched in the stomach leads her to believe that what she _does_ find hadn't been it. Her fingers tremble as they hover over the box's contents, before she gingerly edges out one of the numerous sheets of paper that line its top.

"Mad-libs..."

She wants to laugh- after all, the idea of storing such a thing is hysterical- but no sound comes out. Plucking up several time-yellowed sheets, she scans them slowly with watering eyes. Blocky, disorderly upper-case print, and messy scrawled cursive blemish the blank spaces available on the pages to create nonsense stories and sayings. A large number of the filled in suggestions are crass or alcohol related, but a fair few of them are also fantastical and would be entirely at home on the pages of Henry's book. Here and there the ink has smeared and the paper has been stained slightly with murky fingerprints, and she can almost _smell_ the unhealthy burn produced by the bug's vents when the heat had been cranked up high, and she can almost _hear_ their maniacal laughter while recanting one another with their idiot masterpieces, passing a bottle between them.

Swallowing thickly, she shuffles through a series of smaller slips and cards; each of them baring no semblance to any of the others save for being marked in a hand she instantly recognises as her own.

Messages scrawled onto the back of flyers: 'Wake me up when you get back', 'Have gone for a walk', 'Neal's gay for Springsteen'... Illegible names and phone numbers scratched into the flimsy wad of a napkin. A dirty limerick illustrated, dated, signed, and marked with a slightly wonky copyright symbol on the inside of a matchbook cover.

Beneath the litter of paper, her fingers brush over something soft, and she spreads the cards and leaflets out carefully over the nondescript throw she perches on to uncover a swatch of worn, navy cotton. Pulling it out with a hitched breath, she unfolds a small, faded t-shirt with a scruffily unravelled hem. It is a nondescript garment, save for the fact that she remembers wearing it favourably and often back in the days of 'Neal and the Car.'

"It was on the backseat after you... When you were gone... You can have it back if you like..."

Neal speaks up quietly from his position on the floor, and she glances up; distracted.

"... You kept all of this?... For all this time?"

"Everything... To my own detriment, sometimes."

"...How so?"

"Well, it's a funny thing, but most women tend not to take too kindly to the fact that their partner keeps- what my ex fiancé dubbed- a 'shrine to past love'."

"...You were engaged?"

"Briefly... There were a number of reasons why our relationship was flawed from the start, but that box- and, more importantly, what it represented- was perhaps one of the ones we mentioned least but thought on most... But, that's my issue, not yours... My father played a role in my failure to act as the regular loving husband, as did simple personal faults which I suppose could be true of anyone... And Nancy had her own hang-ups which didn't help..."

"Right... Do you have a box under there for her, too?"

The blonde snipes, but there is no real malice in her tone, and Neal simply offers a small smile and shake of his head.

"No... Nope, you're the only girl I've ever boxed up... I have pictures of her- of Nancy- and some of my other long-term girlfriends... They're knocking about in albums or on my computer, because- break-ups aside- they were a part of my life... I never had _any_ pictures of you, did you know that? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, as neither of us ever bought a camera- not even one of those little disposable ones- but it's strange all the same... If I _had_ had any though, they would have gone in there with the rest of your things, because, despite wanting to keep everything, I also didn't want to be ambushed by it... By you... Guilt was a _big_ part of that, but it was also this kind of mourning that never received any closure... I _understand_ that you've had personal experiences that made what happened... Horrible... But, whether you want to admit it- or believe it- or not, part of the reason it hurt so much is because of how much you'd cared for me, and that part _was_ mutual... You were a good lover, Emma... But you were also my friend, and I needed one of those more than I think you might have known."

He shrugs, and casts his gaze down to the floor.

"Anyway... It might mean nothing now, after all this time... But I wanted you to show you anyway..."

Studying the brunet pensively, Emma bites her lip, before leaning slightly to one side to retrieve her wallet from the back pocket of her jeans. Opening it up, she hesitates for a second, before carefully slipping free a painstakingly trimmed photo she'd printed to fit inside the small plastic sleeve meant for her ID. Leaning forwards, she offers it to Neal cautiously.

"...This is Henry."

Her voice is low, and her fingers shake slightly when the brunet leans forward to take the image from her, as though she isn't quite sure that she wants to give it up. Sitting back and placing her hands delicately in her lap, she waits, worrying the backs of her teeth with her tongue nervously.

They sit in silence for a long time- Neal looking down at the picture in his hand- before he speaks rustily.

"... I see he's inherited his mother's weakness for ice-cream..."

She smiles a little bashfully and shrugs.

"Who _doesn't_ like ice-cream? I-"

"-Emma... I... I don't understand. You said-"

"-He found me."

"He 'found' you?"

"On my birthday... It was apparently a part of the curse that it should be at that point... I was living in Boston, and the kid showed up at my door and introduced himself as my son... As far as birthday surprises go, I think that may be one of the more _extreme_ sorts... He said he needed help, and that I needed to be the one to give it to him..."

"... A kid showed up on your doorstep asking for help and you just _went_ with it?!"

To his surprise, she chuckles, and he looks swiftly down at his hands as she is suddenly far too familiar to him.

" _Hell_ no!... No, sorry, it's just that if you _knew_ how crazy the last year has been, you'd find it funny too... I went with _him_... I did just about everything in my power to not go with _it_..."

"You went with him?"

"He'd run away... See... That's another thing I'd probably laugh about if you'd told me the specifics a year back, as the coincidence is just too crazy to comprehend!... But then, I know now that your dad fabricated the whole thing, and-"

"-Slow down, you're losing me... _What_ coincidence?"

"He's Regina's kid."

"The... The Evil Queen adopted your baby...?"

"She's not... It's... It's complicated... Regina adopted Henry, but Gold- your dad, sorry- was the key part in it... At the time, Henry wanted help as he believed his mother- _that_ mother- to be evil... But, I mean, that's _just_ because of what it said in the _book._.. Though, I guess she _could_ be pretty intense..."

"... You're defensive of her... Regina... You like this woman...?"

"I do... She just made doing so a little _challenging_ at first... Like... 'Drugged-me-and-got-me-incarcerated' challenging... Just for the night, mind."

"... She sounds delightful..."

"She is."

Emma answers simply, and Neal shakes his head, trying to process all that she has told him. Eventually cluing in on the fact that he has left her waiting in silence, he looks up and offers a slow smile and continues softly.

"You're _happy_ though, I can tell... You like the people in that town- Storybrooke- don't you?"

"Hmm, not all of them... My neighbour I could do without, and of course there's your dad..."

"He-"

"-But, before the shit hit the fan, I guess even _he_ was tolerable... I'm not sure how things are going to be now that the curse has broken, it was much too early to tell when we left... But, I _am_ happy there, yes."

"... And you get to see the boy?"

"Every day."

"From the looks of that photograph, he's inherited his mother's _grin_ too... Things are good between you two?"

"Better than I perhaps deserve."

"Don't say that... After everything you've told me... That's not a fair way to look at it. It's not your fault..."

"I know... I _know_ that, now... But it's still asking a lot of a kid to forgive that fact..."

"You understand him better than most on that account, though..."

"Yes and no. My own situation is... Unique... But, even before understanding what in the hell that situation _was_ , there was a big difference... One I haven't addressed with the woman to thank, and probably should... Henry has been loved since he was three weeks old, regardless of the curse and what he believed to be pretence... He's learnt to be a much bigger person than I am..."

"You are still at odds with your parents?"

"... I'm not ready to discuss that yet, and when I am, it's not going to be with _you_..."

She replies evenly, her tone free from any spite that could easily lace those words, but firm. He nods slowly, trying to sort out his head. It is a confusing thing to have someone he was once so close to come back into his life without warning, only to be held warily away at arm's length. In theory, he can understand- more than he'd _like_ to following their conversation back in the bar- but in practice, it's a little harder, when slipping so close to amiable conversation, to not simply fall back into old habits.

"No... That's fair."

She nods in response and takes back her photo print; slipping it carefully back into her wallet as Neal watches her thoughtfully. When he speaks again, he does so with a hint of curiosity; suddenly aware that they have yet to really consider something quite extraordinary.

"... You _did_ it, though..."

"I did what?"

"You really _were_ the Saviour... You freed all of those people... You broke the curse..."

"I... I guess... Yeah."

"Emma, don't you understand how big a _deal_ that is!? It was _prophesied_! You-"

"-I'm just _me_ , Neal. I didn't do anything particularly out if the ordinary... Regina and Gold are the ones with power... I just... I just did what needed to be done, I guess."

"... I doubt that..."

"Then that's your problem."

Neal laughs quietly at this; recalling being told much the same whenever he had questioned her tales when they were younger.

"How did you do it? How did it work?"

"Breaking the curse? The way _all_ fairytales seem to work, no? True love's kiss."

"True love's... Seriously?"

"Seriously. Your dad? Magic and evil, but not all that _inventive_..."

"I... No, I guess not..."

"All in all, not a terrible price to pay..."

"No, but you're sweeping the _magnitude_ of it under the carpet!"

Neal offers with a frown, telling himself that the strange feeling creeping into the pit of his stomach isn't jealousy. Surely not... But he knows that- in a way- it is. Not in a logical sense, as Emma is his _past_ , but then _none_ of this is logical. It's simply strange to discuss the matter of love with a girl he had once assumed he'd end up with, even if this is just in a platonic sense in this case.

"What do you mean?"

"Well.. I mean that for your love to have broken the curse is a _big_ deal! As far as the intricacies of my father's magic, I have no clue in this case, but I know how things worked in that other world, and the _sanctity_ of the idea... And I know how _you_ work... You don't love easy, Emma..."

"That's ironic, coming from _you.._."

"Don't... Don't belittle what we had..."

"... I'm not. I can't do that without deeming everything I've told you to be weakness on my part... But I _did_ love you too easy..."

"No... You were a kid... And it was the way it was meant to be... I suppose this is different in a way anyway, as there's no romantic side to complicate things."

"Excuse me?"

"You were able to comprehend a love for your son. That's an amazing-"

"-I _do_ love Henry... But it wasn't _our_ kiss that did this..."

"Then... Who?"

"Regina."

"... You kissed Regina...?"

"Multiple times."

Her answer is baited and terse, but he also catches a slight tremble to her words, and he recognises the defiant angle of her jaw. She _wants_ him to lose his top over the answer she has provided him, but he's too stunned to give her the satisfaction.

Too stunned... But also too deeply affected by what she has told him today, to give her the satisfaction.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

He nods slowly, before offering a wary smile that catches her off guard and has her frowning at him as though waiting for an ill-meaning punchline. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he bumps his head back softly against the wall, before regarding the blonde levelly.

"... You're in love with her? The woman that's with you and my father?"

"Yes..."

"Good."

" _Good_?!"

She raises an eyebrow at him comically, and he laughs wearily.

"Don't take that with any offence... I'm just... Well, I'm trying to _tell_ myself that I should be glad..."

"You're trying to... _Huh_?"

"It's a bombshell, Emma, to sit here and discuss 'true love' with you, having only had you back in my life for a little over twenty-four hours... Don't get me wrong; I've dated, had the odd one night stand, and hell, even got _engaged_... And I'm sure you have too. But I _do_ still... How do I put this?... Sitting here with you now, there is still an _attraction_ , if you understand me... Because it's _you_... Maybe attraction isn't the best word... What I _mean_ is-"

"-Stop... I get it."

"Good... I _missed_ you... But I missed you because I _liked_ you... I'm _glad_ you're in love... And, from what I've seen, I'm glad it's with her..."

He chuckles at the look this last sentiment garners him and elaborates

"When you were hitting me in the alleyway, this random woman seemed to show up out of the blue and pulled you aside... I thought at first she was trying to help me, as, let's face it... You're a decent punch... But then she was all up in my face, springing to your defence... She didn't know me- not the Neal part of me- and for all _she_ knew, you _could_ have been lashing out at me because I hurt you first... I could have had a _knife_! Or a _gun_!... But, she still wasn't having _any_ of it when she was worried I might harm you, despite you being more than capable of flooring her, I'm sure..."

"She has magic-"

"-Which she knows full well she can't go using in the middle of the street... It had nothing to do with _power,_ Emma, it had to do with _protection_... And when you left, she as good as told both my father and I that she would have the hide of either one of us if we tried to hurt you... And _that_ time she _was_ talking about her magic... I'd be lying if I claimed to be ecstatic at the idea of you being romantically involved with _anyone_... But she cares for you... So... I'm happy for you... I guess it also makes perfect sense..."

"What does?"

Again, that guarded tone, and this time he laughs a little more freely; meeting her challenging glower kindly.

"I imagine there are _several_ contexts to that question?... I was referring to the fact that you- Emma Swan- have found your true love in a woman fabled to be the Evil Queen, and, as I understand it, your family's nemesis... It just _suits_ you is all that I meant... You are- without a doubt- the most contrary, stubborn person I have ever met... It's almost poetic-"

"-Oh, jeeze-"

"-And I imagine there are a few amusing stories the two of you might have to share... As for the 'other thing'... I'll bet that stirred up _quite_ a shock with some of those that hailed from the Enchanted Forest... It wasn't that it was 'frowned upon'- not in my time, anyway- but more that it just didn't happen. It didn't fit the stories, I guess you could say..."

"...It never got so far as being common knowledge..."

"Then you will see over time... _Me_ , though... Am _I_ shocked?... No. You are- were- a free spirit... When we met, you were still hanging around with that girl from the casino, and, _come on_ , let's not forget what happened in Vegas... You 'liked who you liked' back then, and I imagine you feel much the same now...?"

"... Yeah..."

Emma replies; utterly stunned at Neal's response. It serves to remind her of why she had agreed to go out with him in the first place, but _this_ time... Well, _this_ time that memory is a little less painful... They have both grown up, it would seem, and she offers him a shy, knowing smile, which he reciprocates, gladly.

"She's a lucky woman..."

"As am I."

"I'm sure... Not too rough on the eyes, either..."

This finally earns him a genuine grin, and a delicate blush for accompaniment.

"...She _is_ beautiful, isn't she?"

"As are you."

He offers simply; waving his hand at her irritably when she wrinkles her nose and adopts a stoic expression once more.

"I'm speaking platonically... You were a good-looking girl when we met, and you've grown up and into your face and body to be an even _better_ -looking young woman..."

"...And _you've_ grown up into a slighter hairier, bulkier old man."

She responds primly, but he grins, not missing the small tug to the side of her mouth.

"Charming."

"Well... I was speaking _platonically_ , so..."

"Hmmm... As witty as ever, I see..."

"Hilarious."

He smiles, shaking his head.

"... I'm glad you agreed to speak with me, Emma..."

"...Are you?"

"Yes... The rest of it- my father, the curse, the fact that magic exists in this land now- that's all a mess, and it will take time for me to come to terms with it... In reality, and in my _head_... There is a lot of hurt that exists between my father and myself, and, as for 'what next', I don't know... But, in regards to _your_ part in all this... I am grateful you came here and to the bar today... And... I won't lie to you... It isn't easy for me to finally let you go now, but it's _necessary_... I've told you a bunch of times today that I loved you, but, what I _should_ be saying, is that I _love_ you... I _do_ , and probably always _will_... And I hope you'll understand what I _mean_ by that... I was worried earlier, back in the bar, that I'd broken you... But- as awkward as it is for me to think on it- I can tell by your face the few times we've mentioned Regina that someone's there to pick up the pieces... And I'm _okay_ with that... I think, if you were willing to stay around for _longer_ , and spend more time with me, I'd find it harder to feel that way, but-"

"-But it just isn't meant to be."

"No."

"...I'm glad I came here, too... And I hope that _you_ will understand that I'm not saying this to be _mean,_ but... I think I _finally_ understand what it is that I _have_ now... For years, its been like... Like there was this chunk of, I don't know, ice or something, in the back of my head... I think it was in my heart too, if that makes any sense, only _that_ part melted and disappeared when the curse broke... But it's like machinery... I didn't want to come here so you could explain, because I was adamant that you _couldn't_ , and there's parts of me that still hurt and are still mad, but that's okay! Because it wasn't something wrong with _me!_... I've heard that a bunch of times before now, but it's like... That final part thawed, and now all the parts are working properly, and I've figured out what to _do_ and how I feel! I... I wish you well with your father, Neal... And whatever else you might wish for..."

"... Thank you..."

She smiles shyly and gets up to leave; both of them understanding that there is little more to say. Following her out and to the door, Neal speaks cautiously.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

"Well... I've been here a while now, and-"

"-And you know _perfectly_ well that that's not what I mean... You're leaving- you and Regina- to go back to Storybrooke... When? Tonight?"

"... Maybe. Maybe tomorrow... I haven't checked travel times but-"

"-But I won't see you again."

"... No... Probably not."

"...Ever?"

"... I don't know... That depends on what you and Gold decide to do..."

"I'm _not_ going back with him."

"Then...Perhaps not."

"... Are you going to tell the kid... Are you going to tell him about me?"

"... I'd need to speak with his mother before answering that..."

"But... He's a good kid?"

"The best."

"And you're happy?"

"More than I could- and have- said..."

"So this is... I mean this is..."

"Goodbye?"

He nods, and she is suddenly astounded to catch a faint glimmer at his lashes... And even _more_ astounded to find her _own_ eyes prickling. Raising her jaw and regarding him levelly, her voice is soft but firm when she continues.

"It is... What happens with you and Gold is your own business, but... Well... He has my number, as you know... That said, I'd rather you not use it... But, he has a postal address, also... If you ever decided that you wanted to use that, you can... But only the mailbox... I have too much going on in the present to focus on the past now... But... I won't strive to _forget_ it, either... So, I guess... All that being said... Goodbye..."

She holds out her hand awkwardly, and he takes it- shaking it gingerly- before swiftly moving to engulf her into his arms in a fierce embrace. She stiffens, but then relaxes and squeezes him back.

After all... They each deserve this one last shot at a farewell as it _should_ have been.

"Goodbye, Neal... And good luck."

"Good luck to you too."

"I've already got it... I just need to tell her that."


	107. Chapter 107

Pursing her lips as she sits on the bed, the brunette waits impatiently for the Sheriff to return. She knows that she shouldn't be feeling the irritability that she does- that she was, in fact, the one to push Emma into _agreeing_ to talking with the idiot Gold had them track down in the first place- but experience has taught her that when she gets this way, there is very little she can do about it but accept it and wait it out.

She wants things to have gone well for the blonde.

... But, it's hard to remain selfless when it hasn't come naturally to her in a great many years.

Brow furrowing as she continues to brood, she straightens her back as she catches a low thud from down the hall.

Fire doors opening and closing.

And a soft pad in the direction of her room.

Of course, there are _several_ rooms in this direction- and a whole other hallway attached onto the back of theirs- but still, she knows it's Emma.

From the other side of the door, she senses a brief pause, before a low knock beats out against the flimsy wood. Willing the lock to click open with the dull clunk the Sheriff has grown accustomed to, she teases her hair expertly away from her face and watches silently as the younger woman slips into view.

"Hey!"

"Hello..."

She answers with a smile, but her attention lies elsewhere; trying to catch a hint from Emma's body language and expression as to what transpired between her and Neal, but it's as though, suddenly, the younger woman has become a closed book to her. This notion has her feeling incredibly uncomfortable- Emma nowadays usually so easy to read- and she frowns, watching the blonde unzip her coat and toss it onto the dresser.

"It's so fucking _cold_ out there!"

The Sheriff gripes, rubbing her hands vigorously over her upper arms, and making her way over to the bed. Taking up a seat, she studies the brunette curiously; not used to spending this much time in the same room as the darker woman without receiving even a light scolding for her mannerisms, or the method of disposal of her jacket. Taking in the caged pull to full lips as a beam of winter sunlight bathes the Mayor's face with a warm glow, Emma sighs, and moves so that she sits shoulder to shoulder with Regina; leaning against her ever so slightly.

"Hey..."

"... How did it go?"

The brunette inquires cautiously, and the blonde answers in a carefully neutral tone.

"Good, actually... I'm glad you convinced me to go and speak with him."

"...Hmmm..."

It is a noncommittal response, and the Sheriff frowns, playing with her hands in her lap as she presses a little more weight against the Queen.

"He explained to me why he did it... I... I listened..."

"Did you?"

"Well... Yeah..."

"And it was _good_ , was it?"

"... To be given a chance to ask for answers?... Yes, it was..."

The blonde's tone has taken on a slight stoniness, and Regina looks over at her moodily. With the sunlight offering them a kind spotlight, she is able to notice the light tear-tracks staining the younger woman's cheeks, and a lingering pinkness to her eyes. She takes in the various lines and indentations across the Sheriff's face that she has come to know so well, and suddenly wonders why on earth she had found Emma to appear so hard to read not half a minute ago.

A trick of the light perhaps.

_Or a trick of the mind..._

_A trick of the heart._

Sighing, she softens her rigid position to allow the blonde to slouch back into her, and continues with a little less ice to her tone.

"I'm glad... I'm glad it went well for you..."

"... But... You're not happy that I went..."

The Sheriff prompts cautiously; her own words low and patient.

" _I_ was the one that told you it would be a good idea to do so in the _first_ place..."

Regina counters irritably, but the blonde doesn't hold much weight in this answer.

"True... Doesn't mean you can't have second thoughts on it now... Are you mad?"

"No... I'm not mad... Of course not, it's just... You were so _angry_ with him, Emma. _So_ angry! As you well _should_ be!... I know that perhaps I am pushing at several boundaries here- this is both a touchy subject, and I myself have been on the receiving end of your forgiveness- but... I just didn't imagine you would come back with news that it went 'well'...I'm sorry I feel that way... But I can't help it..."

She tenses slightly, unsure how her admission will be received, and adopts an expression of pure confusion when the younger woman chuckles lightly.

"Hmm... Well I guess it _is_ kind of your fault..."

"I _beg_ your pardon!?"

Regina snaps incredulously; not one to enjoy being left out of the loop... And right now she feels like she might as well be out of whatever damned _universe_ the blonde inhabits.

Smiling gently, Emma moves so that she sits facing the brunette, and brushes aside an errant wisp of hair with unusual tenderness.

"It's a _good_ thing... You're right. I should maybe be angry still, I mean, I _could_ be... But _why_? I've forgiven everyone else... And you have only yourself to blame for that, Regina."

Watching as dark thunder crosses the Mayor's face, she shakes her head, offering a warm smile that throws the Queen off her imminent fury

"I don't want to stay mad about something that happened to me ten years ago... Not when I have _so_ much to be happy about now."

"But he... Emma, the man _betrayed_ you!"

"He did... And he had his reasons for doing so..."

"What _possible_ reason would suffice to explain-"

"-I never said it _did!"_

"...Did what?"

"Sufficed... Not to me... But it did to _him_... He did what made sense to _him_... It was stupid, and moronic, and it caused me a _lot_ of pain... But _he_ thought he was doing the right thing... It wasn't _malicious_... Don't you see? If he had hurt me simply because he _wanted_ to do so, I _couldn't_ forgive him for that... But, Regina... If I _don't_ forgive Neal, then I don't know where to draw the line anymore... He left me because he believed he had to do so as it was part of the damn curse- Gold's fucking prophesy or whatever- and he claims he didn't know any better... Tell me how that's all that different to the actions of my parents?"

"... Your parents believed it was for the greater good... And they were right..."

Regina sniffs irritably as she adds in this last part, but still the blonde continues to offer her a kind expression, and she tries to figure out just how in the hell it could be possible for someone to seem so misleadingly moody when she knows that this version of Emma exists underneath.

As if reading her thoughts, the Sheriff shakes her head patiently.

"Yes, I guess they were... But I _could_ choose to question that fact... I _could_ choose to remain angry that in doing what they did, I was alone, when it _would_ have been possible for us to just be a family... They were _right_ , but so was Neal when he followed Pinnochio's warning of the exact same nature!"

"Your parents tried to make it work... _Neal_ took the advice of a stranger on a whim that it meant something..."

"My parents put me in a fucking _tree_ and hoped for the best... When you really come down to just solid facts... That's what happened... But that's not the _point_..."

"No? Oh, yes, we were getting to how this is all somehow _my_ fault... Elaborate, dear, please!"

"Regina... I went over stuff today that I never wanted to think about again... Stuff that caused me more pain that I can... Than I can put into words... And in a way... The fact that Neal had an explanation- I'm not going to argue as to whether it was a _good_ one- but _any_ explanation at all... It kind of threw me a bit... I... I didn't do anything _wrong_... After ten years of trying to figure out where I failed, it turns out I didn't... Turns out he's just... Human.

Flawed.

I've been so angry for _so_ long... _Way_ before Neal, though not quite in the same way... Regina, I wanted to find my parents, but I also _hated_ them. I _hated_ the other foster kids. I _hated_ the kids at school because I was always moving from one place to the other and I sucked at making friends. I _hated_ going there- to school- and I hated coming _home_. I was just angry _all the time_... Only... I was also unwilling to let go of that last little bit of hope... And I believed- in some childish place in my head- that it would get better... And Neal _was_ better... And then... Poof... Gone.

..But then I met you, and though I never properly _hated_ you I don't think, it came pretty damn close!... But then, everything changed- as you know- and suddenly everything was _good_ for once... I mean _really_ good! I was happy- I _am_ happy- for the first time in so long... And I _was_ happy with Neal, but the thing is... You never left me... Hell, you went against warnings and prophecies and whatever else to _keep_ me! And you've told me things, and explained things to me... Maybe not _all_ the time... And maybe not everything you should have done sometimes, but you _did_ when it was needed... I know you're not just going to _disappear_ on me... And I hope you understand that for me to truly _believe_ that... It... Well, it isn't... It's not... It-"

"-It's not something to take lightly..."

The brunette offers quietly, and Emma nods, before pulling away as the darker woman leans forward with clear intent. Taking the Mayor's hands in her own, she strives to finish what she has to say while refusing to drop her gaze as she is so accustomed to doing.

She needs to make sure Regina _gets_ this.

"No... It's not... But when I say that my forgiveness is _your_ fault, what I mean is... I'm _done_ with being angry... Because I have everything I want _now_ , _here_ , at _this_ time... I love you, Regina, and I want to focus on _that_... On you, and me, a-and Henry, and just enjoying what I _have_... I want to _forgive_ my parents, and I want to try and build whatever kind of relationship there is to build after all this time... And... And I want to remember Neal as the guy that taught me the names and shapes of the constellations, and how to pour a beer so you don't get all the foam... Because, in the end, everything worked out... And it was all _worth_ it."

Regarding the brunette nervously as she finishes, she bites her lip as Regina sniffs haughtily.

"Then you are a rare breed, my dear..."

But despite her almost irritable behaviour, the Sheriff isn't fooled; the Mayor squeezing her hands gently and regarding her with dark coals that both cherish and chide. Adopting a shy grin, the younger woman quips lamely

"Well... I'm the good guy..."

Finally, this garners a more natural show of emotion from the brunette; the tentative dance spurred on by the man they had come here to seek wordlessly over and done with. Chuckling, she moves back up the bed invitingly and rests against the pillows, raising an eyebrow with a lazy smile as the blonde hops up and around to straddle her lightly.

"Well, dear... I don't know _how_ you do it, but yet again your graceless rambling has me rethinking my own self... A feat few have ever accomplished-"

"-I don't think I did too badly just now!"

"You were adequate..."

Smirking as the younger woman rolls her eyes, Regina runs her hands up strong thighs before bringing them to a halt at the button of the blonde's jeans.

"... I am _glad_ you think the way that you do, Emma... About _me_ , but also... Just _that_ in its very simplicity: I'm glad that you think the way that you do."

"So, you _don't_ think I'm foolish?"

"My dear... I have hated you, liked you, loathed you, and loved you, and not _once_ have I ever _not_ thought you to be a fool... But a _wise_ fool... And those are the most dangerous yet desirable of all, I have come to believe..."

"Oh yeah?"

Emma offers with a raised brow, circling her hips teasingly as she senses a change in atmosphere and the darker woman unbuttons and unzips her slowly.

"Yes."

"Prove it."

Eyes shining brightly as she looks up at the Sheriff with dark warning that she plans to take her up on that particular request, the Mayor smirks as she begins to wrestle with tight, black denim.

"Gladly. Without that ghastly jacket, you look as though you're some sort of undercover agent in all this black... I would almost find myself unsettled, were I not aware of what happens when you open your mouth."

Laughing at this, Emma strips herself of the Queen's borrowed sweater, eyeing the brunette humorously.

"The jacket could just be a part of my cunning disguise..."

"Hmm... In that case, I propose you at least use the blue one."

"The blue, huh?"

"It's preferable... As far as garishly dyed slain cattle goes, in any case."

"Hmm... What _is_ your favourite colour?"

The blonde asks suddenly with a frown, and Regina raises a brow as she stops halfway in her task of unhooking the former's bra.

"Oh, um, purple I suppose..."

"Really?"

The Sheriff offers with genuine interest, and the darker woman rolls her eyes as she tosses aside simple lace, but her lips form a small smirk.

"Yes dear... And my favourite animal is a horse, my favourite season is spring, and my favourite food is linguine carbonara."

"Huh.. Wouldn't have figured the last one..."

"... Pasta not quite elegant enough?"

"Oh, I have only good things to say about pasta, I guess I just figured it'd be some kind of like... Hog meat or something... You know... Palace stuff..."

"'Palace stuff'?"

By now, the brunette's smirk has evolved into a full-toothed grin, and the younger woman sighs dramatically while ridding herself of the jeans that crumple around her knees.

"Well _I_ don't know, do I?"

"No, I suppose not."

"That's weird though, if you think about it... I feel like I know you better than I know _anyone_... And yet I had _no_ idea all I needed to do was wear the blue jacket to seduce you and have you grovelling at my fee- _Ah!_ "

The blonde laughs huskily as Regina flips her roughly for such insinuations; smiling as the Mayor goes briskly about removing her own clothing in a peculiarly sensual fashion.

"Let's not get carried away, dear, I merely despise one hideous garment a fraction less than the other... I prefer the blank canvas-"

She murmurs throatily, as she strips away scant underwear and climbs on top of the blonde.

"-But yes... I would have to agree that it _is_ a little peculiar that I don't even know what you like to do in your spare time..."

"Well, you know _who_ I like to do..."

"...Evidently the answer to my question isn't the study of poetry..."

"Well... We have a _whole_ coach trip in which to find out we can't stand each other..."

Emma grins, and the brunette rolls her eyes, before laughing darkly as the Sheriff lets out a small whimper as she enters her swiftly.

"I somehow doubt that."

"Good... But hey, at least we know the sex is great either way!"


	108. Chapter 108

"Do you think we should have said something?"

The blonde's inquiry rouses the Mayor from a state of what had almost been sleep, and she frowns irritably.

"Hmmm?"

"About leaving... To Gold I mean..."

"Oh... No, I don't see why that would have been necessary... You told him about as much this morning, after all."

"Yeah, I guess... It just feels strange is all..."

Pushing herself back upright in her less than comfortable seat and wincing at a twinge in her lower back, Regina regards the Sheriff thoughtfully. The younger woman sits slumped against the side of the coach, watching the flickering lights of passing cars sleepily; their bickering as to the brunette's distaste for this method of travel, and then just their simple chatter having died down in the last hour or so to an amiable silence.

"You would rather have discussed the matter with him?"

"Nothing to _discuss_ really, we told him we were going, you're right. I just... I don't know..."

"Feel strange."

"Yeah."

Regina frowns pensively as Emma stifles a yawn. In all honesty, running the news of their departure by Gold had never even crossed her mind; their part of this mess having been taken care of. The little man and his son hadn't been around as far as she had been aware when she had slipped back into her clothes while the blonde had remained naked, sat cross-legged on the bed scrolling through Greyhound departure times on her phone... So they had simply packed up and left.

She wonders though, if it is really _Gold_ that sparks the Sheriff's question.

"... Well... If he takes up issue with the fact- which he _shouldn't_ \- I suppose he'll let us know when he returns to Storybrooke... I... If he decides to take Bael- Neal with him, then-"

"-He won't. Neal's not coming back with him, he's already decided."

"... I see... Would you... Would you have liked to tell Neal that we were leaving?"

She keeps her tone light, but Emma turns to her with a knowing glance and shakes her head, before turning fully and curling up in her seat so that she faces the Queen with a tired smile.

"No, we said goodbye when I left his apartment; whether we left today or tomorrow or whenever, that part was done.. _. Gold_ , though... I guess _that_ part's done, too... _That's_ what feels weird... I mean, it kind of feels like this has been going on _forever!_ "

"Well, it's been a _very_ trying week, and you've suffered the brunt of it, dear."

"No... Well, _yes,_ it has... But I mean more like... I think in some way there's _always_ been this thing with Gold for me, ever since we made that damn deal. Not because I understood what it meant and how crazy it would all get- or how fucking... _interwoven_ this all was!- but more just... I think that was one of the first times I understood that things were _different_ in Storybrooke. Not how _Henry_ said they were- I couldn't think of it like that- but, the way Gold spoke to me then... I remember thinking that it wasn't _normal_. I scoffed at the notion of a 'deal' so far in the future, and so... I don't know-"

"-Elusive? Intangible?"

"Yes, that's _exactly_ it!... It was a strange- and slightly disturbing- conversation, but it seemed harmless just the same. Because it wasn't a _concrete_ deal... And yet... Gold popped up unexpectedly almost as much as _you_ did, only, _his_ motive seemed to change every five minutes. With _you_ , I knew you just wanted me gone, out, dead-"

"-Don't..."

"... You didn't want me in town. With Gold it was always like it was some kind of crazy dance... Which I guess it _was_. It's just strange now to know that all of that's finally _over_... Unless he comes home and then wants something _more_ -"

"-I doubt that will be the case. Gold has what he wanted from you- what he created you for- and, as obscure as it may be that we shall still be a part of his life by mere locality, I imagine he will want to leave you and I very much alone. That is my wish, anyway... And you know, having spent these last few days in his company, I imagine it will be granted. Whether the man is capable of feeling _guilt_ , I still hold my grievances and doubts, but he _knows_ what he did to you back in that apartment, Emma, and what happened wasn't at _all_ to his plan. I believe this has left him shaken- just a fraction, mind- as so little, it seems, ever falls out of his control. That, and once back in Storybrooke, though it pains me, there has been a shift in power."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean that the Dark One might well posses more magic, and greater power than any other person that has ever lived- at least to my knowledge- but he is still as you have seen him. Mortal. He is not a God, Emma. A great deal of his power lay within the fact that he favoured and excelled in the art of manipulation and that those he manipulated were _also_ in possession of great power. For as long as Gold has worked his magic over any of us, your mother and I have been at war-"

She pauses abruptly to glance back over her shoulder and check that their murmured conversation isn't being overheard, but then merely thins her lips distastefully at the pair of youths that sit in the adjacent seats, each with headphones blaring and their nose plastered to their phone. Turning back to Emma, she rolls her eyes as she catches a small smirk, and the younger woman whispers teasingly.

"I sense a 'but' coming... You and Mary Margaret were always at war, _but_ -"

"-Oh, I would curb your enthusiasm, dear; she and I are never going to be friends... _But._.. I don't plan on returning home and demanding she decide on a course of either fight or flight... To be honest, I'd rather just avoid her _entirely_."

Regina sniffs irritably, a scowl crossing her features as the Sheriff chuckles quietly and mutters something about finding solace in the normality that lies in the clash between parent and partner.

"There is nothing 'normal' about it. I _am_ happy for you that you've found your parents, but that doesn't mean that I _myself_ don't find them to be- at best- a wretched little sneak, and a village idiot in a crown, and that, in _my_ opinion, the _only_ worthwhile thing those two ever did was reproduce..."

She supposes that, by now, she should be less than surprised when this irritable grievance garners her nothing but a simple chuckle in return, but she sighs and pulls the thin blanket she'd packed out of her bag regardless; throwing it over both herself and the blonde as she leans in with conspicuous intent

"Tease..."

She offers, when Emma allows her to brush full lips against her own a few times, before swiping over them promisingly with a swift sweep of her tongue. A sharp intake of breath, and the younger woman chuckles huskily, before regaining her wits once more, and addressing the Queen sombrely; one pale thumb brushing over the wool covering a delicately bent knee with gentle reverence.

"I am but what you make me..."

Smirking, the brunette shakes her head.

"No, I doubt that. I imagine you were _always_ a tease, dear, and if not, I'd ask that you not crush that image..."

Pink velvet as Emma's tongue flickers cheekily into view, before sharp teeth nip her bottom lip in a smile.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Your Majesty..."

"See, my assumptions were correct; a tease... And you know _full_ well I can't do anything about it on this hateful coach..."

Green eyes flash with dark humour, and the blonde feigns innocence

" _Do_ something about it? Whatever would you mean Madame Mayor?"

"Emma..."

"Yes?"

Glowering purposefully, the darker woman sighs before shimmying back in her seat and closing her eyes.

"Do shut up."

Catching an irritable huff to her side, full lips stretch into a self-satisfied smirk, and the Queen raises her hand to shove at the Sheriff's head blindly; savouring the silence.


	109. Chapter 109

"Are you alright, dear?"

Regina inquires with a smirk as she waits outside the bathroom door.

"Fabulous..."

Comes the disgruntled reply, as the sound of running water replaces weak coughing, before the Sheriff emerges back into the bedroom; pale and a little shaky.

"I do _not_ like that shit!"

Regina chuckles rather unsympathetically; dark eyes shining with amusement as she watches Emma take a seat at the foot of the bed.

"The pretty green tinge to your complexion somewhat gives that fact away..."

The blonde shoots her a poisonous look, before sighing and adopting a small grin of her own.

"Oh well... I guess I can still beat the vast majority of people out there in the fact that I've apparated _twice_ now!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's like wizardy teleportation."

"... I see..."

The Mayor sighs with a roll of her eyes; having been force-fed more titbits concerning a group of fictitious, misfit teenagers- and their inane 'magical' dilemmas- in the week since the curse has broken then she feels she perhaps deserves. She is brought back from her inner weary grumbling as Emma suddenly cocks her head to the side and addresses her curiously.

"Hey!... How come you didn't just teleport us all the way from New York? It would have saved so much time!"

"Because, what I _successfully_ manage is not 'teleportation', nor any other such fanciful delusion from one of your mindless science fiction novels."

"Right... It's _magic_..."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Only a _lot_..."

"Hmm."

The brunette offers with an arrogant sniff, as she goes about putting away her things. Boring of grinning smugly, Emma toes off her boots and folds her legs up beneath her on the bed; watching the Queen thoughtfully.

"But I _was_ actually interested... How come you can magic us from outside the town line, but not from New York?"

Thinking Regina genuinely offended when the darker woman fails to look up or offer an answer, the Sheriff shifts her weight on the plush mattress awkwardly, but when the Mayor moves to hang up her jacket in one of the slick, built-in wardrobes that line the far wall, she speaks softly.

"Displace us."

"Huh?"

"It's the term most frequently used back in that other land. I 'displace' us... Not 'magic' us."

"Oh."

"And it's not that I _couldn't_ have done it from New York, but simply that I _shouldn't_ have... Magic requires years of study if one wishes to master it, and-"

"-and it always comes with a price?"

"Well, that _too_ -" the brunette agrees with a fond smirk,"-but what I was _going_ to say, is that it can be elusive even when it _has_ been mastered. There are two reasons it would have been foolish for me to attempt to displace us from New York, although I'm sure I would have managed just fine. The first is my lack of knowledge as to the geography of this world... It is difficult for me to comprehend the distance and power needed when I have little clue where I'm going. It was fairly straightforward to have us end up here when working from just outside the town line where the bus stopped, as I more or less understand the lay of the land in the surrounding area."

"You can't just visualise the place you want to end up?"

"No. An image or understanding of the desired destination _is_ part of it, but magic is a little more complicated than simply closing your eyes and making a wish, and this is especially true when one has to accommodate for any additional factors."

"How do you mean?"

"You. You're my second reason. For me to take you with me is both risky, and challenging. Inanimate objects pose less of a problem- clothes and possessions merely bend to the will of the one commanding them; they have no aura- but when trying to travel with a companion, you need to allow for _their_ power as well as your own."

" _My_ power?"

The younger woman asks with a look of surprise, and Regina smiles as she shuts away her final bits and pieces and regards the blonde pensively.

"Oh, _everyone_ has a certain amount of power, dear. It's not something that lies dormant- you either possess the ability to nurture it and utilise it or you don't- it's simply apparent in any born of that other world in the form of what most practitioners call a 'glimmer'. Well... This is what I _thought_ to be the case, anyway..."

"... Okay?"

"... It's strange... _You're_ strange-"

"-Yes, you've told me you think so plenty of times, thanks-"

"-Your glimmer is different."

"Oh good! Yet _more_ magical mayhem for the Saviour!"

"Oh, please, you don't need some fancy title awarded to you by Gold to incur mayhem, Miss Swan; I imagine you are _more_ than capable of achieving any variety of chaos all by yourself... And I didn't say it was a _bad_ thing... Simply that it's strange. I felt it when I took you with me back in that horrid apartment, and I felt it now... It's like your glimmer is curiously _intense_. It's... Well, it's almost as if _your_ power _is_ simply lying dormant... Such an idea is absurd- fear not- you simply pose as an inconvenient travelling companion. I imagine that's what's caused you to feel nauseous each time- I have felt a little delicate as a result myself- ... It's not a _common_ side-effect, but the mixture of different breeds of power does not always make for a harmonious occurrence. It can play unpleasant games with one's senses."

"And stomach."

Emma gripes, but the Mayor concludes that she looks suitably impressed by her explanation, and feels momentarily a little flushed.

"So it seems."

She agrees, before her attention falls upon the Sheriff's bag; the worn fabric bulging slightly due to the fact it contains everything the blonde had brought with them. Emma follows her gaze and nibbles her lip shyly.

"I... I don't know when you meant you wanted me to like... You know... Stay here and stuff."

"Well, I imagine that's up to you, dear. So far as I have seen, the majority of your possessions remain conveniently boxed up, and- unless you have been storing the excess cunningly away- will fit with little trouble in the wardrobes and cupboards."

"No, that's all of it. Well, and some books..."

"I keep mine in the drawing room as you have seen, but if you had other ideas, such things can be discussed."

Emma smiles and shrugs.

"Oh, I'm not fussy."

"No... No, dear, you are many things, but I agree in that respect- you aren't fussy- and I'd hazard a guess that this is a good thing... So yes, just tell me what you want to do. I had said that you were welcome to spend Christmas with Henry and myself, but if you wish to spend it with your parents, I would understand... Just don't get any fanciful ideas of _combining_ the two."

The blonde chuckles, and shimmies a little further back on the bed, playing with a section of long hair idly through her fingers.

"No... I may be a _ravishingly_ wise fool, Your Majesty, but I'll bet you'd agree with me when I say I'm not a romantic; I hadn't planned on requesting to play mediator. Not counting a bottle of Wild Turkey, some festive tootsie rolls and a pair of _expertly_ hand-crafted paper crowns donned while huddled in a car with a busted air vent, this will be the first time I've really acknowledged the holidays. I can think of better ways to spend them than ducked under a table as you and Snow White chew each other out... I joke about it, Regina, but I do _know_ it's hard for you that you have to see them everyday."

"...Well... I brought them over here..."

Regina sniffs irritably, but she is inwardly thankful the subject has at least been acknowledged.

"True... When you wanted them to suffer. It wasn't because you fancied them to be excellent neighbours... But to answer your question, I, uh, well I guess I'd like to accept your invite... I feel a little guilty, but..."

"You should do what _you_ want to do, Emma."

"I know, and I am... It's just Snow White is _also_ Mary Margaret, and I never got much time after things all went crazy to explain things to her. Until I went missing, she had no _clue_ I was into you. She's been good to me, Regina, ever since I got here, and I feel like maybe she won't quite understand... She _should_ , I mean, even _Neal_ brought up the fact that there is little room for argument in the face of True Love, but I just feel like deep down we're still just Mary Margaret and Emma, and, while I can't feel guilty for being a bad daughter- I just _can't_ \- I _do_ feel bad for not always being the nicest housemate..."

The darker woman nods in understanding and sighs, before raising a brow in surprise as the blonde chuckles quietly and speaks with a little more humour.

"It's still quite a simple choice to make, though..."

"I'm flattered."

"Oh, so you should be, but before you let your ego get _too_ out of control, I will _also_ raise the point that- all guilt and empathy aside- I am still _me_ \- still Emma- and the thought of a sickeningly perfect Christmas dinner while watching Snow White and Prince Charming suck face is just about enough to send me running back to the bathroom."

Regina laughs richly at this before stalking a little closer to the bed, regarding the Sheriff dangerously.

"Are you implying you have doubts as to the perfection of _my_ Christmas dinner?"

Pink tongue flashing swiftly between sharp teeth.

"I wouldn't dare! I just don't foresee festive sweaters and a round of carols in my future with you!"

"You sound so sure..."

The younger woman's grin falters ever so slightly, and the Queen smirks victoriously, shaking her head.

"No, dear, I believe in _that_ respect you're safe. I may enjoy a little well-meaning abuse and torment, but I imagine suffering through your rendition of carol singing would be a punishment unto myself also."

"Hey!"

"Just an inkling."

Emma rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically, as the brunette closes the distance and perches on the bed, regarding the younger woman seriously.

"So, alright, you're going to spend Christmas with Henry and I... What about the next three days?"

"Well, I... Do I have to decide _now_?"

The Mayor offers her companion a stern look and sighs wearily; batting the blonde's hands away as they work at plaiting a section of her long hair so that she receives her full attention.

"You _can't_ always wait for 'tomorrow', Emma. I've expressed that your decisions are your own, and while it makes little difference to _me_ whether you move in now or at a later date, I imagine it will make quite a difference to your _mood_ if you have the inevitability of _that_ particular discussion with Mary Margaret hanging over you... And, as much as I'm sure the resultant sex would be sublime, I don't fancy dealing with you the _rest_ of the time as you fret over such things."

"... I'm going to have to tell her, aren't I..."

"Well yes, I imagine she will _eventually_ clue in on your absence, dearest."

"Crap."

Regina smirks, leaning forwards and gently unravelling the messy braid so recently interwoven into golden tresses.

"I suggest you two- three, if you count the oaf- sit down and chat when we go and collect Henry."

" _We?_ "

"Oh, I'm just coming along to pick up my son, don't get ideas."

"Right. So while _I_ have the discussion from hell with the Charmings, you and Henry get to frolic off back home laughing. I'm your girlfriend, I thought you were supposed to be all _empathetic_ about that kind of shit."

"Yes, and my thoughts will be with you as I cook up a splendid meal and enjoy it with my son in your absence."

Full lips smirk widely, as glittering green glares up into brown incredulously. Pushing against the younger woman's shoulders to back her down gently onto the mattress, the Mayor's smirk evolves into a seductive smile as she moves up the bed so that she bares down on the blonde; regarding her with fiery coals.

"... And _what_ did you just call yourself?"

The playful fury shining up at her darkens lustfully, and Regina shakes her head when the Sheriff purposefully clamps her mouth shut with a telling pull to her lips.

"No, no, you're not getting off _that_ easy, sweetness... Say it."

She growls throatily; her hand disappearing beneath the warmth of the younger woman's sweater. Emma shakes her head- only just able to hide an impish grin- and the darker woman scrapes her teeth warningly over the vulnerable tendons at her neck.

"Say it, Emma..."

"...I'm your girlfriend..."

The blonde replies huskily, running her nails up the soft material of the Queen's shirt with moderate force. Regina rewards her obedience wetly; breath coming a little heavier for both of them as hands begin to explore and need starts to rise.

"Correct; you are... Now let's explore _why._.. Then tomorrow, you can go and talk to the two idiots. You're mine- and mine alone- for what's left of the night..."

"Ugh, _seriously?!_ You had to go bring _them_ up again? Way to ruin the mood, Madame Mayor..."

The Sheriff grumbles, as the darker woman busies herself tasting the flesh she has just uncovered by shucking up the dark fabric of the former's sweater. Regina chuckles into the smooth dip created by delicate ribs, before sitting up to eye the younger woman humorously.

"My apologies, dear... Let me fix it..."

A swift sweep of her hand, and the candles that rest atop the twin bedside tables- and those that line the windowsill- flicker cosily to life, casting distorted shapes and shadows onto the walls. A second small movement, and the overhead light is extinguished, leaving them bathed in a warm, golden glow that highlights the brunette's lustful smirk dangerously. Emma's resultant intake of breath casts shadow down her lithe frame, and the Queen drinks in fluttering bone and illuminated flesh hungrily, moving her hands to rest at the button to the former's jeans.

"Better?"

"Hmm..."

The Mayor sighs irritably, causing the blonde to smile and pull her back down; momentarily sweet as she plays her fingers gently through dark tresses and murmurs softly into the Queen's ear

"Much better... You always make things much better..."

Before she slips a hand down between them and slides her fingers between hot flesh and luxurious wool.

"Again... Tease..."

Regina admonishes as she spreads her legs to splay across the younger woman's hips and allow pale fingers easier access to the wetness she can already feel saturating expensive silk.

"Nuh uh... It's not teasing when you know full well you can have _exactly_ what you want, any way you want it..."

The blonde purrs, and the Queen's breath catches in her throat as she raises a brow and regards the fair woman lain out beneath her darkly.

"... What did you say...?"

"You heard me."

"Say it again..."

"No. Tell me what you want."

The brunette bites her lip as she stares down at that ever lazy smirk forever hiding at the corners of the younger woman's mouth, and she circles her hips as she runs a finger- featherlight- over the lace centre of the latter's bra and down the bare skin of her abdomen.

"I just did..."

"...True... But why? _Why_ do you need me to tell you you can have whatever you want from me- do whatever you want to me- when you know this already? I mean, you _do_ know... Don't you?"

Regina swallows, striving to keep her voice level; to maintain control.

"Of _course_ I do... I could make you do whatever I _wanted_ , I have-"

"-I'm not talking about magic..."

Comes the low response, and the Mayor stills; her finger coming to rest within the divot of the blonde's navel.

"... I see."

Regarding the Queen with an unreadable expression, Emma remains momentarily silent, before slowly raising her arms and holding them out behind her head with her wrists resting against the bedposts.

"Do it... I _know_ you can conjure them..."

Regina frowns- perplexed- shaking her head.

"Conjure what?"

"Cuffs... Handcuffs... Do it..."

The younger woman instructs with a slight waver to her words, which are followed by a heavy silence as the brunette studies her intensely.

Finally, after holding the blonde hostage for what seems like minutes with her dark stare, Regina lifts her hand from alabaster flesh and makes a slow movement with her fingers.

"...What... Wh-what are you doing?"

Emma asks with a frown, looking up behind her to observe soft, purple silk wind itself slowly around her wrists to bind her submissively to the bed frame. The darker woman keeps her silence a moment longer, before leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on confused-parted lips.

"I'm _not_ cuffing you to the bed, Emma. Not now, not ever..."

"But... I said you could have whatever you wanted..."

"I know... But why would I _want_ such a thing?"

"Well, I just thought... I mean, before, in your study..."

"That was different..."

"Well, yeah, I know...But you _enjoyed_ it... Didn't you?"

Arched brows furrow childishly, and the Mayor runs her palm softly down through tousled curls to cup the younger woman's cheek.

"I _did_... But I didn't _know_ you then like I do now... Emma, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do... I would have hoped you'd know that by now..."

"Well... Yeah... I just thought... I was _trying_ to show you that I'd give you whatever you wanted... I mean... I know you'll never _actually_ hurt me- not in a bad way, anyway- so I just... This is _sex_ , so..."

To her surprise, Regina laughs gently at this; shaking her head so that her dark hair glimmers magnificently in the candlelight.

"This _is_ sex... Yes... But I'm not going to hurt you..."

Leaning forward- letting out a pleasured sigh as this shift of her weight presses her core deliciously deeper against the Sheriff- the brunette works her slim fingers between Emma's compliantly limp ones; grasping the younger woman's hands and baring down heavily so that her hair spills down and her delicate features loom dominantly over the blonde's pale face.

"Not like _that_ , anyway... But... Do you _want_ me to?... To hurt you, I mean?"

"... If you want to..."

Regina smirks and flashes her teeth, before licking her lips.

"You're being coy... But you...You _like_ it when I bite you... When things get a little rough... You enjoy the pain?"

"... Yes."

"Why?"

"You feed off of it... I like that."

"How so?"

"Because I'm yours... Before, I liked it because there was this subtext of hate and anger to our relationship, and it turned me on, just as it turned _you_ on to inflict it... Now... Because I'm _yours_... You do it because you like my reaction to it, and the power it gives you over me..."

"... I'd not have taken you for a submissive... Or- rather- I'd not have foreseen you _admitting_ to the notion..."

"There's a difference between masochism and submission... But for you, I'd offer up both."

"...After _all_ that you know; who I was. What I _did_... You'd give me such power?... _Complete_ power?"

"It's never complete... The masochist bullies the sadist into action..."

"An interesting take... You think I'm a sadist?"

"I think you like it when I squirm..."

"... True."

Regina nods; eyes glittering predatorily in the candlelight. Slipping her fingers from the blonde's, she sits back and regards her with a slow smile, running her tongue thoughtfully over her bottom lip, before seeming to come to some elusive decision; her tone suddenly rich and dangerous, and free from any uncertainty.

" _True_ , dear. I enjoy it _immensely_..."

And with that, she moves gracefully down the younger woman's slender frame, so that she straddles her thighs rather than her hips, and makes a brisk downwards motion with her hand; full lips spreading to show perfect teeth as the Sheriff lets out a surprised yelp and pulls involuntarily against her restraints.

"... But I don't need handcuffs to watch you do so..."

She purrs, as she plucks away the perfectly slit fabric of the blonde's bra, and traces the hair-thin superficial graze that leads to the brass button of her jeans. Raising her gaze to find Emma's own, she shares the Sheriff's sinful smile as she undoes rough denim and drags down the stiff zipper deliberately slowly.

"And I'm only doing it because I love you... And I know you want me to..."

"I know... It's a good thing I know _you_ want to do it, too..."

The younger woman replies breathlessly, and Regina laughs softly, leaning down and claiming a slow, experimental kiss. She runs her hand blindly over the soft flesh exposed beneath her- scratching and kneading here and there- as the blonde begins to move restlessly; her hands flexing and closing to better feel the burn of the purposefully soft silk.

Gaging the swift increase of heady arousal that cloaks the room, the brunette smiles as she nips at the Sheriff's tongue, before pushing herself back up. She knows that the possibilities are close to endless given her powers, and she imagines that with time, there will be a great deal of experimenting undertaken in this respect- the thought serving to make her grind gently against the younger woman's thigh- but for now, she feels she is done with using magic to play with the blonde. So far- save for her demonstration of her power following her explanation of how things went the way that they did- their exploits before today have been natural.

Real.

Raw.

And this has suited each of them just fine.

As such, she gives a final, firm drag of her palm between pert breasts and stacked ribs, before leaning to her side, and plucking one of the flickering candlesticks carefully from the nightstand; cradling its holder delicately. Catching the knowing glitter in blown green eyes, she takes her bottom lip between her teeth, and moves so that she straddles the younger woman in such a way that one of the latter's thighs offers much needed pressure to her need.

Holding the Sheriff's lust-blackened gaze, she raises the candle to be level with her own breasts- careful to allow just enough distance between flame and flesh to avoid scalding- and tips it purposefully.

Red wax- liquid crimson with heat- drops down to speckle the blonde's sternum; the vibrancy fading ever so slightly as it hardens over pale flesh so startlingly white by comparison.

Emma hisses quietly and closes her eyes. Regina watches globed flesh rise and fall with familiarly shallow breaths and steals a swift kiss; moving against the younger woman's thigh wantonly.

Lifting the candle once more, she repeats the process with heightened aim; letting out a low moan to match the Sheriff's as red wax dapples and coats the latter's left breast.

Then the right.

Then the welcoming expanse of her stomach.

By now the blonde's breathing is ragged, and her fingers tremble slightly as she pulls against soft silk uselessly; her eyes all but black when she finally opens them to regard the Queen straddling her.

Regina returns her gaze from beneath hooded lids; her own cheeks flushed and her pulse racing, as she feels her inner muscles clenching desperately with an almost nauseating sense of desire.

Her hand trembles slightly as she dips the candle for the final time; watching as scarlet wax splatters down onto the bare flesh exposed between the ragged wings of the younger woman's opened, and lowered jeans.

The resultant noise Emma offers is purely guttural, and the Mayor lets out a harsh, shuddering breath, before blowing out what remains of the candle and placing it frantically back on the nightstand; making an unsteady movement with her hands which has the younger woman's silk bonds vanishing instantly to nothing but smoke.

Dark denim is ripped ruthlessly the rest of the way down slim legs, as rich wool is rendered just as useless. Soft silk is wrenched open and ruined, as sodden lingerie is pushed roughly aside.

Down below, attentions are frantic, needy, brutal, but through it all- until the Sheriff's hissed expletive and the brunette's muffled scream as she buries her teeth into the blonde's shoulder- hot breath is exchanged passionately as soft lips crash against one another.

Finally, they lie still; the darker woman lying on her side with her eyes and legs clamped shut as she rides out the euphoric tremors of aftershock, while Emma draws slow lines carefully across her back.

"... I love you, too..."

"Hmmm?"

"That's what you're writing, no?"

In place of a verbal response, the Sheriff draws a large, slow check-mark, and the Queen smiles as she feels herself begin to dose off blissfully as the remaining candles slowly burn down to darkness.


	110. Chapter 110

"Hey, mom?-"

Henry heralds as he pushes open the door to the brunette's bedroom.

"-Emma!"

The Sheriff glances up at him with a small smile, pushing herself backwards off of her hands and knees so that she sits with her backside rested comfortably in the cradle of her feet.

"Don't you _knock_ , kid?"

She admonishes playfully, and Henry shrugs without a care as he takes a seat on the plush throw that covers his mother's bed.

"I live here."

"Yeah, well, it's my room..."

The blonde counters back with a childish tone to her voice to match her son's. Henry sticks his tongue out at her gleefully, and she sighs with a great deal of heightened drama.

Her statement still feels strange when voiced between the two of them however, but then, he supposes- with all the wisdom his ten years can muster- that he has only had a little over forty-eight hours to process this strange turn of events...

Indeed, it seems like only a couple of _hours_ ago that he and Regina had each been tucking in to a steaming plateful of seafood pasta while sat across from each other at the kitchen table. This incident in itself had seemed a little odd- true, things have changed over the last couple of weeks; this he had picked up on... but _still_ \- as she had simply shrugged at his refusal to eat the capers bejewelling the rich tomato sauce; informing him amiably that this was acceptable, so long as he at least _tried_ one. Stranger still had been the large helping of ice-cream for dessert, and her openness to being questioned about what had transpired on her trip to New York; affirming with a complex expression that she and Emma had indeed been successful in locating Mr Gold's son. Henry, in turn, had expressed cautious amazement as to her frequent hints at amiable teamwork with the blonde in this respect.

And that was when it had happened.

Regina had paused briefly- playing with her spoon through the last dribbles of ice-cream coating the delicate crystal bowl in front of her- before addressing him pensively.

"Henry... Would you like it if you got to spend more time with Emma?"

Silence.

He had been entirely thrown by her question.

Curiouser still, when he _had_ finally found his voice in order to answer her, he had found himself concerned for the first time in, well, forever, that he might hurt the brunette's feelings should he answer too hopefully.

"... Yes? I like spending time with her... She's fun..."

"... Yes, I suppose she is."

His mother had offered quietly, simply nodding as his jaw had dropped comically open.

"...Mom..."

"And I know for a _fact_ that she would like to spend more time with _you_..."

These words had gone unheard; Henry still trying to comprehend- no, _believe_ \- that he had caught the brunette's previous statement correctly.

"... You... You think Emma is _fun_?"

"Surprisingly... Yes. I think Miss Swan is a _lot_ of things, Henry."

"... You _like_ her, don't you? That's why she came round after the curse broke... Because she was nice to you, even though... Even though..."

"Even though I am- was- the Evil Queen?"

"...Yes..."

"Yes. She was nice to me. And I to her as it happens... And yes, all differences aside, I _do_ like Emma. Very much so, in fact."

She had smiled gently, and he had frowned at her in return; struggling to find his voice once more.

"Oh... Okay...?"

But she had been patient. Kind. Allowing him to question her in a way he would usually never dare. Nodding and shaking her head here and there, and explaining slowly how her relationship with the Sheriff had evolved and shifted and mutated. She had explained what Emma had attempted to relay unto him as to what had come to pass in Mr Gold's curious, hidden apartment; filling in details the blonde had neglected to share, and thus allowing him to witness the genuine ebb and flow of emotions crossing well loved- yet once feared- features.

She had then gone on to admit that she and Emma had become begrudgingly friendly towards one another quite some time _before_ the blonde's disappearance, and had laughed quietly when asked why such a thing should have been kept a well-guarded secret. Her answer to this had been tentative and careful, as was the rest of her explanation of their current circumstances, which eventually culminated in

"Henry... I'd very much like Miss Swan to come and live here with us, if that would be alright with you..."

And he had simply stared at her; dumbstruck.

Her reasonings had been delicately laid out for him, but of course, he is ten- almost _eleven_ , now- and he had been able to slot in the missing pieces to his mother's words. What he had eventually reckoned on being the truth to the situation had caused him to blush a little uncomfortably, but only in the sense that it isn't often one imagines their parents as partaking in that old, adult obscurity; romance.

Yes, he had blushed, and he blushes now as he regards Emma knelt on the plush carpet- the 'you-must-never-wear-your-shoes-up-here' carpet- as she studies him back fondly.

He knows enough about 'adult things' to feel the colour at his cheeks deepen due to her irritation at being barged in on, before he swiftly scolds himself for thinking about such things as he notes that she kneels amidst a garish cornucopia of wrapping paper. Following his gaze, the Sheriff sniffs with feigned irritability; admonishing him lightly.

"Quit gawping, this is a highly covert operation; strictly need to know!"

He giggles and cocks his head to better assess the shape of the item she wraps, and she shields it with her hands with a scowl, telling him to go and find Regina and see if _she_ needs annoying instead.

"Is that one mine?"

He asks; completely ignoring her request for solitude. The blonde rolls her eyes as she struggles to multitask between sticky-tape and holding things in place. Hissing as she tears a piece of tape across her lip as well as through her teeth, she licks at the resultant sore spot experimentally, before tossing her hair over her shoulder and regarding the boy with a smirk.

"No, it's for Ruby. Who say's I got _you_ anything, anyway?"

Henry's grin falters slightly, and Emma chuckles evilly, shaking her head and making a second attempt to secure an awkwardly folded flap of deep green wrapping-paper in place.

"Relax, kid, I did yours first."

He smiles, and hops down from the bed to take a seat on the floor beside the Sheriff; holding down the mischievous paper to allow her a better chance of securing it down. Watching as sharp teeth make quick work of the festive red tape Regina had pulled out of the depths of the writing table in the corner the day before, Henry studies the blonde pensively as she abandons wrapping for ribbons.

"It's going to be weird this year... Christmas..."

Emma stills as Henry ponders quietly, looking up at him slowly and swallowing.

"Yeah... I guess so... I mean... If you want to just spend it with Regina then-"

"-No!"

He corrects her hastily, and her cheeks flush slightly as he continues

"I _like_ having you around here! Also, you make my mom act like she's on a good mood _all_ the time-"

"-Oh, I'm sure she's just suppressing the onset of madness-"

"-What I _meant_ is because, like... Well this will be the first year that an _actual_ year goes by for everyone _else_ and not just me..."

"... I guess it will..."

She frowns, and regards the boy seriously.

"It must have been very lonely..."

"Well, for a long time I just thought maybe there was something wrong with me, but I-"

His words taper off into a surprised grunt as the Sheriff suddenly pulls him tightly to her and wraps her arms around him in an almost vice-like grip. Circling his own arms around her neck without question as to this sudden, obscure behaviour, he shifts slightly so that he rests in the cradle of her lap, and buries his face into the warmth of her hair; not understanding why she hugs him in such a way, and at the same time, understanding it completely.

They stay that way even when the soft pad of footsteps creeps closer up the stairs, and Emma peeks up over soft chestnut locks when they come to a halt to find Regina leant in the doorway. The darker woman raises an eyebrow curiously, but doesn't push for an answer when the blonde simply closes her eyes. Smiling, the Mayor walks quietly over to the bed and takes a seat, ruffling the accessible patch of Henry's hair, before offering a light tug to the Sheriff's.

"Things all seemed a bit calm and quiet; I was getting suspicious."

Henry pulls himself away from the younger woman's chest and regards the brunette with a frown.

"I was reading in my room and then helping Emma..."

"Oh, it's alright, dear, I was talking about Miss Swan."

The blonde sighs with a burlesque roll of her eyes, and Henry chuckles at the obscurely childish bickering between the two women.

Shoving him abruptly off of her lap with a small smirk at the irritable 'hey!' this garners her, Emma regards the boy amiably and informs him she needs to get back to work. Regina nods, smoothing out a crease in the pretty, scarlet pencil skirt she's selected to honour Christmas Eve.

"Yes, let's not overload the Sheriff with the difficulties of multitasking, or who _knows_ what she might tape herself to... Besides, there's a whole tray of gingerbread men downstairs in need of faces."

Grinning, Henry does as he's told, pushing himself up off the floor and trotting down the stairs in a flurry of chaotic, heavy stamping of feet the brunette wonders if Emma realises is _evidently_ genetic.

Leaning forward to pluck up a discarded snippet of ribbon, the Mayor attempts to use it to tie back long hair with a smile; chuckling darkly as the younger woman ducks with a low growl in order to escape such a cruel fate. Rising from the bed, Regina sighs and holds out her hand in a gesture to help the blonde to her feet.

"So, do I get a hug too, then?"

"I dunno, I might be all tapped out..."

"Give it a go."

"Ugh, you're so _needy_..."

Emma gripes sarcastically before flinging her arms around the darker woman's neck and placing a loud kiss on her cheek. Rolling her eyes, the Mayor encircles her waist and waits for the blonde to desist playing the fool and simply squeeze her back companionably. Getting what she wants after second or two, they stand that way for a little while, before Regina gently pushes the Sheriff back and places her hands on her hips in a business-like fashion.

"Are you planning to stay up here _all_ day, dear?"

"No... I guess I could help Henry deface some humanoid cookies..."

The younger woman broaches with a hopeful grin.

"Oh no you don't; you're a big girl, and can therefore- _maybe-_ be trusted with a knife. Onions need dicing."

"But..."

"No buts."

"It hurts my eyes!"

"You're wearing contacts!"

"I'm not wearing them _now_..."

"Well... That explains your wrapping..."

The brunette smirks evilly as the younger woman glowers at her; running a finger coquettishly up the latter's arm.

"Go on, go and be a good little elf and help out..."

"...Jeeze, and _then_ what? I get to sit on your lap or something while you tell me if you deem me naughty or nice?"

"Don't be ridiculous, dear. _Then_ you can peel some potatoes."


	111. Chapter 111

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The end! (Later author's note: the next chapter was added as an epilogue a year later, both in the fic, and for me writing it)
> 
> Well, this has been crazy good fun, and thank you all for sticking with me! I realise that this chapter is almost entirely fluff, but fuck me do they deserve it! I really wanted this one to just be about how far they've come and include a few mentions of post-curse Storybrooke in there too. I'm sure not every single question has been answered, but, that's life :) The idea is that this is the beginning of a new chapter for both characters, so there's no reason why lingering issues wouldn't still be seen to and dealt with in the future :)
> 
> That said, I'm sorry this has taken so long- and that we are celebrating Christmas in March now...- I had originally wanted to go through the entire fic and edit all of the grammar/ spelling mistakes and remove the ever apologetic A/Ns, as well as finish a front cover kind of thing I'd been working on for fun, but, I really wanted to complete this fic before the new episodes aired, so bit the bullet. 
> 
> I've changed the status to 'complete' for this, but am aware that the story description is pretty useless! If anyone can offer me a better one/ help, that'd be much appreciated as I suck at them!
> 
> Thanks again, and please review :)

"What's Emma's favourite animal?"

"Penguin."

Regina informs her son absentmindedly; rather preoccupied as she pulls back the shining lid of a large pot bubbling away on the stove to inspect its contents.

"Really?... How do you know that?"

The boy asks with genuine curiosity from his seat at the kitchen table. Glancing back at him, the Mayor sighs; deeming the large hunk of ham to be in need of at least another ten minutes, before leaning back against the counter with her hands neatly folded within the pocket of her apron.

"She thinks they're hilarious... _Why?_ I don't know, but then that goes for so _many_ things the Sheriff does and says..."

She answers with a rolling of her eyes that suggests she is of the opinion that she might well be enamoured with a woman several crayons short of a pack.

In truth, she is just inwardly a little surprised to find that she knows the answer to Henry's question.

Pulling herself together- her heart threatening to begin that telltale pumping she has grown to associate with the blonde having moved in- she reminds herself that this isn't some romantic tryst out of her son's fairytale book, and that the reasoning behind her now _fairly_ extensive knowledge of the Sheriff's thoughts and interests lies in the fact that it's the holidays, and that Emma and Henry have spent the last three days threatening to drive her slowly mad as they have chattered away about seemingly every topic known to man.

_And several more besides._

"Why?"

She asks curiously, turning to the cabinet above the sink and fetching herself a glass. She fills it halfway up with white wine- placing the bottle neatly back into the well-stocked fridge- and tops it off with sparkling water.

"I'm drawing them in the space I have left."

Henry states, as his tongue darts out between his teeth and he returns his attention to the painstakingly inscripted place-settings the brunette had requested he make for their dinner tonight and tomorrow.

Her request had received an impish smirk from the Sheriff- who had been sat with her legs dangling down from the counter at the time- and Regina had resisted the urge to give her a sharp smack around the ear as she had chuckled darkly at the formality of such a thing.

Resisted the urge _barely_.

If it had been up to _her_ , she would have had the blonde doing much the same thing; _desperate_ to find the other two things to do in order to keep them running maddeningly round the house.

For this reason, when Emma had come up to her about an hour ago- clad in her coat and a woollen hat, and bearing the news that she felt she ought to drop by Mary Margaret's for a while- the brunette had sent her off gladly; imagining Henry's own excitement has somewhat been feeding off the blonde's.

Smirking down into her spritzer now, she shakes her head and takes a break from cooking to go sit beside her son and help him with his drawing.

In all honesty, the irritation she's suffered the last few days has been of the welcome variety. Sure, it has been building steadily as time has passed; and has correlated _directly_ with the Sheriff's increasing dizzying excitement...

But, she gets it.

This is the blonde's first real Christmas, and first real family.

In a way, she feels like the same could be said for she and Henry, but even the _boy_ has yet to jump around so frantically that he has managed to make himself physically sick.

As it is, she had simply rolled dark eyes fondly when the younger woman had emerged sheepishly from the bathroom, and hugged her fiercely while breathing in the scent of toothpaste and face wash, much as she had held her when the blonde had returned from that first- and most important- trip from Mary Margaret's, pale and anxious.

She had done so, because Emma had done much the same to her when she had misinterpreted the source of some of the Sheriff's frustration upon returning from that first, arduous conversation with the Charming's.

"Did you give Emma the card you made for Miss Blanchard?"

Regina inquires of the young brunet with his nose hovering only inches away from the paper in concentration. She uses Snow's Storybrooke name purposefully when talking to the boy, much as she has learnt to do when talking to his mother. With Henry, it is simply a case of finding it easier to deal with the fact he and the raven headed woman share a bond if she pretends it is _purely_ educational, marred with an overlapping sense of affection birthed when he had frequently disappeared off to spend time with the blonde and her housemate in the past.

With Emma, she has learnt that the school teacher's title simply depends on the younger woman's mood.

She likes to joke about her lineage at the hands- or, rather, the reproductive organs- of the Charmings.

But of Mary Margaret- just plain, old, simple Mary Margaret- she speaks fondly, and will allow only minimal venom to pass from the Queen's lips before calling for a halt to the conversation.

"Yes, but I didn't know what her favourite animal was..."

The brunette chuckles appreciatively at this, and shakes her head amiably when Henry looks up to regard her; slightly hurt.

"I'm sure whatever you decided to draw was perfect, dear."

"I drew her some snowmen-"

"-Well, there you go; that's very festive-"

"-one of them had a motorbike."

"... Hmm... Well... It's an _interesting_ thing to put with snowmen."

"Yeah, it was Emma's idea."

"...Of course it was."

Regina sighs, sipping delicately at her drink.

As if on cue, a metallic thunk of brass on metal greets them suddenly from the hall, followed by the heavy thud of the door, and the familiar rustle and clump of shoes and coat being removed and hung up on the hooks that line the hall nook.

A moment later, the Sheriff appears in the doorway; cheeks flushed from the winter wind, and her long hair held somewhat under submission by the hat she has negated to take off.

"Smells good."

"Thank you- _ah!_ \- it's not for _now_ , though!"

The brunette scolds swiftly as the younger woman pads over towards the pot on the stove and makes to remove the lid.

"And _please_ tell me you weren't about to touch that with your bare hand?"

"Okay, we'll say I wasn't."

Emma offers with a shrug that the Mayor suspects to be a far cry from her reaction should she have succeeded in her endeavour to sate her curiosity. Responding with a knowing smirk, the brunette pushes herself from the table and moves to check on the ham herself; pointedly donning an oven mitt.

"You cooked it in coke..."

The blonde states in surprise as she recognises the dark liquid in which the meat soaks, before spying the discarded bottle standing in the windowsill.

"You told me to."

"Well, yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually _do_ it... I mean, you wouldn't quit _lecturing_ me about-"

"-I never _lectured_ you. I simply stated my apprehension as to your decision to drink the _entirety_ of a seventy-odd ounce bottle of coke on the coach trip home... Your suggestion to use it to marinade a ham- _surprisingly_ \- made culinary sense."

Regina counteracts; shooing the younger woman out of the way as she takes the pot off the burner. Laying down a heat-proof mat on the far corner of the counter, she leaves the steaming ham to stand with the lid loosely askew.

"Well, I think that's everything. Potatoes and vegetables can go in around six, and then the meat will just need to be heated through."

She offers to no one in particular; Henry engrossed in his drawing, and Emma too busy grinning at her upon noting the pristinely white apron she wears. Offering the younger woman a withering look, she sheds the garment swiftly and hangs it back on its hook beside the door. Fluffing her hair, she points towards the fridge as she speaks, before plucking up her glass and sauntering towards the drawing room.

"I put all the drinks in the fridge. I need to finish off the tree. Can you see if you can start a fire?"

The Sheriff nods and moves to comply amiably- stopping to peer over Henry's shoulder, and pulling a chocolate coin bestowed upon her by her mother from her pocket and offering it to the boy- before fetching herself a beer and padding lightly off in the direction recently taken by the Mayor.

"The tree looks good."

She offers as she breezes through the doorway into the large room- 'The Regina Room' _,_ as she imagines she will always think of it- and the brunette turns to smile at her warmly.

"Well, I like pretty things, Miss Swan..."

"Uhuh."

Emma responds with a roll of her eyes, though her cheeks flush a delicate pink as she goes about layering kindling upon the hearth.

"And what about the Charmings?"

"What? Do _they_ like pretty things? Funnily enough, this has never come up in quite that context-"

"-How was Christmas Eve with your parents?"

The Mayor interrupts with a sigh; carefully adorning sweeping branches with the last few ornaments laid out on the table. She is still rather surprised that they had managed to _find_ a tree so late in the day- not having been quite ready to support the blonde's suggestion that they simply go cut one down in the woods themselves; having played witness to just how sloppy things had been the _last_ time the younger woman had wielded a chainsaw- but Storybrooke isn't like other towns, and its inhabitants are unlike those from other places. They had needed a tree, so, the blonde- the Saviour- had simply called in a favour from the local Woodsman and gotten them one.

Simple.

But then, Regina imagines the man would have agreed to fell half the forest should Emma have requested it; Ava and Nicholas standing on either side of him when she had gone to ask if he could help them at all.

Full lips forming a wry smile, she turns back to the Sheriff and awaits an answer.

"It was nice... They didn't ask me to change my mind about tomorrow this time, which was good... Though Mary Margaret _did_ remind me _several_ times that she has no intention to touch my room, and that I can come and stay any time I like..."

She grins fondly at this and lights a match, as the brunette returns her mirth with a humorous rolling of her eyes and takes a seat upon the sofa.

"...I think they're finding it hard, though..."

"Well... You're their-"

"-I don't mean because of me moving in here... Just in general... Like... Day to day stuff. With Ruby it's different- oh, and she says Merry Christmas by the way- because she quite _likes_ working at the Diner, and she says it's pretty much the same sort of thing she would have been doing- though with more ale- if she hadn't had to worry about, you know, the wolf thing- _which_ , by the way, you guys need to fill me in on a little before the full moon!-...But no, for Mary Margaret and David- well, Snow and Charming- I think it's odd just... Being normal... I mean, _now_ it's the holidays, but when school starts again... I'm not sure Snow White sees herself teaching kids how to make birdhouses for the rest of her life..."

"Understandable, but then she is not alone. Do you imagine _I_ wish to spend the rest of my life playing Mayor?"

"Well, I'm sure you'd prefer 'Your Highness', but the role of Queen isn't so different I'd have thought?"

"In a way... Though there are many less beheadings to attend."

Dark eyes sparkle wickedly, and the blonde cocks her head as though trying to decipher whether the Queen speaks of fact or fiction.

"Yes, that _is_ a shame."

She offers eventually, and the brunette chuckles darkly as the younger woman comes over and falls heavily onto the sofa next to her.

"Oh, I'm supposed to give you guys this."

Emma informs the woman beside her as she leans to the side in order to pull a crumpled envelope from the tight confines of her jeans. Handing it to Regina, the Mayor takes it and opens up the card inside with a bemused sniff.

"Interesting that the ink used for my name is a different color... Almost as though it was an afterthought... _Or_ perhaps _someone_ might have _asked_ for it to be written there?"

Emma sighs, brow furrowing as the darker woman leans forwards to place the card dismissively on the coffee table.

" _Or_ maybe they wrote it before they knew I was going to live here, Regina... I don't know, okay? I didn't _ask_ them to include you... It's just..."

"Awkward."

"Very."

The blonde agrees, before seeming to perk up considerably and leaning over again to access her other pocket.

" _I_ got you something too, though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

The younger woman grins as she places something small in the brunette's hand.

"Let's hope it fits!"

Regina looks down at the ring lying in her palm for a long time, before finally raising an eyebrow and glancing back up at the Sheriff.

"...Did you get this from a gumball machine?"

"It's the thought that counts."

Emma informs her airily, and the Mayor chuckles as she slips child's purple plastic as far as it will go up her index finger.

"I'm _fairly_ sure that it was whatever candy that accompanied the ring that counted for you, dear."

"I'm hurt! That's twenty-five cents of love right there!"

"Oh, well in _that_ case..."

The Queen murmurs with a throaty laugh as she leans forwards and captures the Sheriff's lips heatedly. The blonde twists towards her, and Regina runs her hand from the former's knee slowly up and around to brush promisingly close to the crotch of her jeans before pulling swiftly away.

"Regina...?"

The younger woman growls irritably; frowning as she opens her eyes to regard the Mayor.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Well, my dear, that was all that twenty-five cents will get you!"

She sarks back playfully; pushing herself from the sofa in order to put the oven on preheat and get things ready in the kitchen. Emma watches her go amiably, shrugging with a smirk as the darker woman glances back at her from the doorway.

"Eh, I'll still take it."

* * *

"I can't move. I'm sleeping here tonight."

The blonde states matter-of-factly; squeezing her eyes shut as Henry drags at the paper crown resting low upon her curls with a giggle so that it covers her face. Rolling her eyes, the Mayor gives her a hard prod with her foot under the table, as she piles their plates neatly one on top of the other.

"Where you sleep is your own business, but right now I want the two of you in that kitchen with a washing up brush and towel; I'll leave the choice of who does what up for debate.

"You have a washing machine."

"Indeed I do, and you're more than welcome to use it, but _not_ on my crockery."

"Dishwasher. Whatever."

Emma grumbles; pulling the crown off of her face so that it rests at a rather jaunty angle that offsets her sleepy irritation.

"Yes, and that's where you can deposit these plates and the cutlery, but the pots and pans can't go in there."

"Sure they can; you just stack them and tilt them a bit."

"Well... We don't do things in such a way in this house... Now get up- both of you- and make yourselves useful."

"Fine..."

The Sheriff sighs- though the brunette imagines that her attitude is purely for show- as she makes her way lightly towards the kitchen, despite her declaration that such a feat might be impossible.

Turning to Henry, Regina smiles as the boy looks up at her beneath the magenta spikes of his own paper crown. She imagines that her expression must be pretty similar to her son's- although slightly more subdued with the delicacy of her years- as the small brunet looks both exhausted and elated. The entire evening has gone by without a hitch, save for each of them suffering from a lack of oxygen as quips and stories had been shared across the table.

Emma's; rather toned down and ad-libbed tales of some of the more interesting and obscure Christmas mishaps she'd played witness to, culminating in an explanation involving a quart of juice- at least, this had been the liquid's alias with the kid at the table- some ice skates and a scar between her fingers.

Regina's; a description of similar festivities celebrated in that Other Land in the company of her father and mother, which had had the other two riveted, and the brunette's cheeks flushing when her son had asked her again and again for more.

"Go on, there's actually not that much left to do. Go take these last few things through to Emma, and then get on upstairs; it's way past your bedtime!"

Checking her watch, she raises a brow as she realises just how much truth lies within her words; the hour getting on for midnight seemingly out of nowhere.

In the old days, such a break in schedule would have irked her greatly- well, no, in the _old_ days, such a thing would never have _happened_ \- but she finds, with a sense of genuine surprise, that she is able to simply shrug it off and let it be.

It's Christmas Eve.

And they have had a wonderful evening.

"Okay."

The brunet chirps; sliding out from his seat at the table and balancing the last few dishes carefully in his hands.

"Hey... Mom?"

"Yes, Henry?"

"I... I love you..."

Blinking in surprise, Regina finds herself momentarily at a loss for cognitive thought, before she takes a step towards the boy and straightens his crown gently.

"Why, I love you too, dear... More than anything in the world."

"... And Emma?"

"And Emma."

The Mayor replies simply; deeming this to be a fitting response. Henry seems to ponder her wording briefly, before smiling back up at her with a sunny grin.

"I think Christmas tomorrow is going to be awesome!"

"Good! I'm glad!"

She chuckles, bending down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Now stop stalling and get to bed, and don't forget to say goodnight to Emma."

She watches him go fondly, before turning back to the empty table and wiping it down methodically; full lips forming a slow smile as she listens to the quite hum of voices from the other room, before a dull flurry of footsteps lets her know that her son has made his way upstairs to bed.

* * *

Stalking back into the kitchen, the brunette leans in the doorway and watches unashamedly as Emma goes about loading the remaining implements that don't sparkle with soap suds on the draining board into the dishwasher.

"Are you staring at my ass back there?"

She laughs darkly at this, crossing her arms over the soft swell of her chest as she wets her bottom lip with her tongue.

"The possibility exists..."

"Hmmm..."

The blonde offers, swaying her hips ever so slightly as her long hair hides a smirk.

"It's a good angle on you."

"Yeah, well, that may be, but if I stay bent over much longer I think I'm gonna hurl."

The younger woman grumbles as she finishes up and inserts a tablet into the machine. Turning to face the brunette and pushing her hair absent-mindedly away from her face, she smiles as she leans casually back against the counter closest to her.

"Seriously, I don't think I ever want to see another piece of food _again!_... Well, until tomorrow, anyway."

"Yes, well, no one _forced_ you to eat two heaped platefuls of food and wash them down with half a tub of ice-cream, dearest..."

Groaning at the memory; the Sheriff shrugs in a way that suggests there had simply been no other option in the matter, and watches as Regina pours the last few inches of wine into her glass so that she can dispose of the bottle.

"Well, you're a good cook."

"Hmmm...-"

The Queen purrs as she moves across the kitchen slowly to stand before the blonde

"-Flattering, but then I've seen enough of what you're willing to put in your mouth to question your standards..."

Raising an eyebrow, Emma smirks and plucks delicate crystal from the Mayor's hand and raises it to her own lips.

" _Actually_ , I think my standards are just fine... I mean, look at my taste in _women_ , for instance..."

"I suppose you raise a point... There are _some_ aspects of life in which you possess a _little_ taste..."

"A 'little taste', huh?"

The Sheriff murmurs invitingly, and the darker woman grins salaciously as she closes the distance between them; pressing her hips heavily against Emma's and relishing the dulled tang of the wine on her tongue.

Closing her eyes, Regina moves her hands up into soft curls and deepens their kiss passionately; giving an irritable mewl as the younger woman pushes her gently away.

"Wait... I want to give you your present."

"We don't do presents until tomorrow, dear."

"I know, but this one you have to open now."

"...Okay?..."

The brunette offers with a frown. The Sheriff grins at her impishly; instructing her to wait a minute, before hurrying off upstairs while the Mayor finishes her glass with a bemused shake of her head.

When one minute becomes two, and two minutes become five, she begins to get a little impatient; casting her dark glance up at the ceiling above her and listening out sharply for signs of life.

Offered only silence; she sighs and places her glass in the sink before creeping on upstairs.

* * *

"Did you fall asleep or something?"

She inquires irksomely as she crosses the threshold to their bedroom, but the blonde is nowhere to be seen. Closing the door quietly as she notes a soft glow of light emanating from beneath the bathroom door, she stalks over to take a seat on the bed; eyeing that promising strip of light curiously.

"... Emma?"

"Yes?"

The younger woman answers coyly as she emerges from the bathroom and closes the door behind her.

Turning back to the Mayor; she offers a coquettish smirk as the brunette regards her with an open mouth.

Leaning against the wall in a teasingly wanton fashion, she plays with a long section of her hair idly.

Regina swallows, taking in perilously skimpy- and almost impossibly sheer- emerald lingerie, accented with festive details of red ribbon, before breaking out into a dark smile and willing the lights to lower dramatically; casting them in just a dusky haze of shadows and highlights.

"... Well, Miss Swan... This is quite the present _indeed_..."

"... I'm just sorry it's not wrapped properly..."

Emma muses from her position against the wall; worrying the scant wisp of lace at her hip with a falsely demure expression.

Smirking sinful scarlet, Regina beckons towards the bed with a crook of her finger; moving up towards the headboard as she goes.

"Oh, don't fret, dear; I'm sure we can work together to fix that."


	112. Chapter 112

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I debated doing this for a while, as I've never been a fan of 'a year/ ten years/ whatever amount of time later' sections of books. (Read that as 'I was not a fan of the final section of Harry Potter where everyone had married everyone else and was, *shudders* happy ;) But that might just be me). That said, this was a hell of a time consuming fic to write originally, and once it was done I really missed it. I actually ended up finding myself thinking about what would have happened quite a bit and just, I don't know, had withdrawal symptoms with this one. So. This was as much for me as any of you :) Hopefully, a little 'one year later' won't be too badly flamed :) I just figured I finished the fic celebrating christmas (eve) so why not celebrate it a year later? I tried to match the tone of the fic- without any drama, I was worried I'd then not be able to stop!- so this is equal parts SMUT and FLUFF; hopefully something for everyone! Thanks so much to all of you that read Wet, and, thanks for putting up with me for one more! Happy Holidays :)
> 
> For anyone wanting to jump onto another longer fic with these two with a slightly different take, please check out my story 'Keep Your Enemies Closer' which is now complete and with a sequel in the works :)

Green eyes blink alert and blown in the darkness; regarding the seemingly never changing red display of the alarm clock.

5.45 am

Fifteen more minutes.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Henry tosses and turns as he counts down in his head. A part of him is dimly aware that his being almost twelve would suggest his excitement for today shouldn't be quite so immense if books and films are to be believed... But then, his is a unique situation, and this is a unique town, and if today proves to be anything like last year, he has every _right_ to be excited.

Creating a couple of shadow figures against the wall with the penlight the Sheriff had given him from her office for this very purpose, he forbids himself from looking at the clock until he has completed his repertoire.

Mission accomplished, he glances back at scarlet digits and smiles.

5.56 am

Good enough.

He doesn't imagine he'll get into trouble for being four minutes early in waking up the others. Slipping from beneath the warmth of his covers, he pads slowly to the door and eases it open; peering down the hall and grinning as he spots three, curiously shaped sacks lining the posts of the landing. Bundling them under his arms, he slinks towards the door at the end of the hall and pushes it silently open before making his way quietly to the large bed that centres the room and looking down with a big smile.

The brunette wears a black, silk shirt- a christmas present he had given her a couple of years ago in fact- and lies peacefully on her side with her hand draped lightly over the Sheriff. The blonde lies curled up tightly against her; long hair obscuring her features, and the pale moonlight filtering in through partially drawn curtains catches the exposed flesh of her arm. At the very top of her bicep, the boy is just able to glimpse the curious circle of neat white scars that mar the flesh; a memento from one of the summer Wolf Moons in Storybrooke, and something which both she and the waitress find highly amusing, despite the Mayor's disgruntled reminders of how badly things could have gone wrong.

Henry is inclined to side with Regina on this- Emma having come home that balmy night ashen faced and cradling her arm, with her coat in tatters and smeared a deep red- but there is still something to be said for his mother's best friend and colleague- and his frequent babysitter the _other_ twenty-odd days of the month- being a werewolf.

It is by this same token that he doesn't think the fascination of living under the same roof as a sorceress and the Savior will ever wear thin; the brunette having eventually decided to keep her status of Mayor, but spending most of her time between the Station and the Hospital due to her ability to heal those injured in a way Whale can not, while the Sheriff and her lupine Deputy patrol the town with pockets full of various dusts, and crossbows slung over their backs rather than guns.

An obscure governing force, but one that has actually ended up serving the town quite nicely.

"Hey... Mom... Moms... Get up!"

He murmurs as he shakes the brunette gently and climbs up to kneel over her so that dark eyes flutter open to find his nose an inch from her own.

"Henry!"

Regina sighs with mock annoyance, and the Sheriff groans as she pushes her face more firmly into the welcoming darkness of the Mayor's embrace and mumbles something about hours and how many more of them she'd like to sleep.

Both the brunette and her son grin at this, but, Regina imagines- _hopes!_ \- their reasoning is vastly different!

For Henry, she imagines the boy simply finds his mother's adolescent approach to mornings to be amusing.

For herself... Well... She knows a little more as to why the Sheriff might find herself to be quite so exhausted, and silently awards the younger woman a point for her suggestion- while lying panting and blissed out- that they might be smart to locate the various items of sleepwear decorating the carpet.

_"After all, it's Christmas in like... Oh shit! Already!"_

Emma had informed her, before grinning wickedly and drawling

 _"I_ loved _my present..."_

She had yelped with a giggle as the brunette had climbed threateningly back on top of her, but the light sheen of sweat touching the Mayor's temples and sternum and her breathless chuckling had given her movements away as simple bluffing, for which- having retired to bed over an hour beforehand- they had both been slightly relieved.

Now, smiling up at Henry as the boy grins down at her with his hair sticking up this way and that after a hard round with his pillow, she addresses him pleasantly.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

The brunet's smile widens, and he dumps the three sacks- makeshift stockings, as the Mayor had decided without consulting the others that after last year it just didn't sit right with her to have her own and Henry's matching, and the blonde's so clearly an afterthought- onto the bed with a low giggle as Emma lets out a winded huff, before pushing herself from the brunette's warmth and blinking up at their son sleepily.

"Christmas!?"

"Yeah!"

Henry crows with a small pump of his fist at the blonde's expense, and Regina chuckles as she watches the Sheriff feign irritation- badly- and the boy set things right as he leans over her to appease the younger woman with a kiss on the cheek.

"Presents!"

Emma cheers- this time fully aware of how she sounds- and Henry fist-bumps the air dutifully once more as he climbs between the two women to sit against the foot of the bed with his legs between theirs.

"Presents, and then one of you is getting in the shower while the other does Quimby and I get on with breakfast."

Regina informs them all in her familiar 'do as I say' tone that- surprisingly- goes obeyed more often than not since she has stopped using it to be snide.

No, in actual fact, it is a rarity that her requests since Emma moved in have been met with argument, and _on_ those few rare occasions, it has been a case of a difference of opinion and an eventual, patient conversation to get to the bottom of things, rather than the heated bickering favoured back when the Savior first came to town.

Quimby being the most recent subject for debate.

Henry had come to them early in March exclaiming his wish for a pet, and Emma had seconded him on this with similar enthusiasm. Eventually, puppies and kittens had been shot down due to their rather hectic schedule, but compromised- with a rather dubious brand of agreement on Regina's behalf- that they would allow the boy to pick out whatever else he wanted at the pet store.

Having sent him along with Emma, she had subsequently spent the next hour or so battling down fears of the Sheriff arriving home with some obscure beast or other and wearing that ever-present shit-eating grin that really _does_ serve to get her her way more often than not.

_"I wonder if they sell geckos... Oh! Or snakes!"_

The blonde had teased while getting changed that fateful morning, and the darker woman had turned from her lazy combing of rich, chocolate tresses to smack the back of her brush hard against the Saviour's bare behind.

In the end, the other two had come home baring a small box- and the pieces to put together a little, wooden hutch piled in the trunk of the younger woman's car- housing a small, black and white Dutch dwarf rabbit nestled down amongst its wood shavings and blinking up at the Mayor innocently.

Innocent... Until an evening of whisky and wine had ended up with Emma giggling beneath the brunette on the sofa- clad in just her bra and jeans as the last tinge of a burning summer sun had cast them both scarlet- and suggesting she might well have had a _motive_ for anointing their newest family member with its obscure name; Henry having gone along with it happily, the same way he does with most of Emma's suggestions.

And, Regina gets it. The younger woman can be _frighteningly_ persuasive if she wants something.

Quimby, though...

Well, pushing herself up off of Emma that summer's eve just enough to allow the younger woman to fiddle with her laptop and find a 'link' or whatever she'd called it, they'd found themselves watching an- admittedly amusing- cartoon plagued with yellow beings and a rather asinine character masquerading as a Mayor.

_"Bitch."_

She'd snarled into soft flesh, and Emma's laughter had vibrated pleasantly against her chafing teeth.

"I'll go do Quimby, Henry can shower first."

Emma smiles now, and the boy nods as he begins to rip the paper off of the small gifts in his stocking while the women opposite him do the same.

* * *

"Do you mind just drying those last couple of bits and pieces, dear?"

Regina smiles as Henry stands resting against the kitchen counter with his juice in his hand and his new scarf wrapped smartly beneath his chin.

"Sure. Shall I throw out that last pancake?"

"No, Emma will eat it."

She grins, and she imagines the boy's responding laughter mirrors her own amusement, as neither one of them had taken the blonde's "I'm never eating again!" with any real weight as she'd pushed herself from the table with a groan.

"Speaking of, I'd very much like to shower _myself,_ and I wish to do so under hot water!"

She grumbles as she casts her eyes up towards the ceiling where the low whine of the pipes creates a continuous hum.

"See if you can find something to listen to and get some hot chocolate on the stove; I'll go chase up Emma, and we'll do the tree presents when I come back down."

She smiles- ruffling the boy's hair- and he nods obediently as she stalks from the kitchen and makes quick work of the stairs.

* * *

"What on earth are you _doing_ in there?!"

Regina sighs as she lets herself into the bathroom without knocking, only to roll her eyes as she finds Emma stood idly beneath the spray of the shower, 'doing' very little.

"It's warm."

The blonde shrugs with a grin as her long hair gleams a drenched dark honey, and she keeps her lashes gently closed against the pouring water.

"Well, _I'd_ like to be able to enjoy that fact, _also_!"

The Mayor grumbles, and the younger woman shrugs once more with an evil smile as she suggests lightly

"So, join me."

Licking her lips thoughtfully as she regards the blissfully unaware Sheriff, Regina takes a surreptitious step backwards and flips the small latch to lock the door.

Ordinarily, with Henry wandering around the house, she wouldn't take Emma up on her frequent blasé offers, in much the same way as she is sure that the blonde doesn't really mean them... But...

Well, she imagines Henry's general pottering around when tasked with making them all drinks will buy them at least twenty minutes...

And it's _Christmas_.

Smirking as she keeps her dark eyes trained on Emma- the younger woman keeping her own eyes indifferently shut- she removes her silk pajamas swiftly, before climbing into the shower with a low chuckle at the surprised yip this receives from the blonde who finally flutters glistening lashes open to regard her with equal parts shock and anticipation.

"Well, _hey,_ what's a fine woman like you doing in a place like- _ah!_ "

She chokes as the Mayor pushes her forcefully against cool tiles.

"Not too loud, okay?"

Regina warns- though, she supposes, she shouldn't really feel the need; Emma more often than not frustratingly quiet in comparison to the sounds that escape her _own_ lips when parted in ecstasy- and the Sheriff nods obediently with her brow raised as she waits to see what the brunette might be up to.

After all, Regina wears that 'oh, you're in trouble' expression that she both fears and relishes.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Well... As you seem to have decided to be so _selfish_ with the water... Maybe I want to teach you a lesson..."

Regina purrs into slick flesh as her own lithe frame glistens under the cascading water.

"What do you-"

"-You told me a story once, do you remember? When you mentioned your old life and your partaking in the odd pack of cigarettes here and there... Of how parents sometimes deal with their children upon discovering that _dirty_ little habit..."

The brunette whispers breathlessly, as the younger woman kisses her neck in a rather distracting fashion while waiting for her punishment.

"You told me that sometimes, rather than confiscate the packet and giving the child a stern talking to, parents are inclined to force them to smoke the entire pack in order to ruin the experience in a rather unforgiving way..."

"What... You're going to make me take like twenty showers or something?"

Emma mumbles against a slippery collarbone; not really understanding what the brunette might be getting at, but not all too broken up about this fact as she becomes distracted by the hardening buds of the Mayor's nipples brushing against her flesh.

"Not quite."

Regina admonishes as she tilts her jaw to allow sharp velvet to trail a delicious line back up, while simultaneously reaching up for the shower-head and pulling it down from its metal throne; smiling maliciously as Emma lets out a small sound of confusion, before biting back a much louder whimper when the Mayor moves the generously hard jet of water down between them and holds it against her to illicit wide eyes and shaking curls in response.

"Regina, no..."

Emma begs, but she bites at her bottom lip in anticipation and the brunette laughs with dark amusement as she presses cruel silver against sensitive flesh just a little harder, and watches intently as the blonde reacts to the forceful jet of water pounding against her need with impressive speed.

"Oh no, oh no..."

She groans, as her legs tremble and her palms slip and slide uselessly against the slick tiles behind her.

"Keep your legs apart."

The Mayor demands; angling the shower-head slightly to counteract Emma's futile attempts at lessening the impact.

"I can't."

The blonde argues back simply, and Regina laughs as she presses herself against shaking flesh as she knows this isn't true.

Knows the Sheriff has a deliciously _high_ tolerance for how much she can take- if she really _tries_ \- before allowing herself to go over.

It is one of the things she has learnt in the past year, and one of her favorite aspects to their love making.

As for Emma, she knows that the younger woman's _own_ greatest perversion is the danger of getting caught. The gleeful delight of catching her off-guard and teasing her, playing with her, _fucking_ her where she shouldn't.

Preferably within earshot of undesirable company; hooded, green eyes blown out while watching her prey struggle desperately to bite back cries of pleasure.

Those cries being _second_ on the list of the younger woman's perversions; and something Emma encourages vehemently when they _are_ alone.

This latter vice is definitely not something the darker woman minds- moaning wantonly into hot flesh as the Sheriff looks after her slowly but thoroughly- and, after finding out just how _strongly_ her pleasured cries are able to effect her perpetrator a month or so after asking Emma to move in with her, it is something she's added to her _own_ list. It had been an eye-opening experience, that first time; groaning as pink velvet teased her wet flesh, only to be surprised by a harsh shudder and recognizable mewl as her rather vocal response to that sweet torture had given the blonde her _own_ stimulation. Opening her mouth in surprise, she had pushed the Sheriff off of her gently and slipped her hand down between pale thighs to conclude what she'd already known; smirking at the younger woman's bashful giggle as the latter's inner muscles had fluttered tellingly against her fingers.

Just one of _many_ discoveries- both sordid and general- made over the past year, but certainly one of her _favorites_.

Because, for herself, there is nothing she likes more than watching the blonde 'get off' as Emma words it.

Especially when she takes her time to get there.

That's the ultimate prize, in her eyes, and- having several more tricks than Emma does herself at her disposal- it is something they've had an _extortionate_ amount of fun exploring.

Regardless of her magic however, at the end of the day, she can almost _always_ count on the younger woman panting at her to 'do it the real way', and she's always been more than happy to oblige.

Happy to have that final push be raw and intimate and even.

Just so long as she gets what she wants.

Just so long as she gets to watch the Sheriff tense up and clench her jaw and breathe in that frantic, fluttering manner she so enjoys.

 _Several_ times, if she has her way.

That had been one of her _other_ discoveries.

Her _own_ greatest perversion.

And, the first time, she'd received quite a nasty shock as she'd fretted she'd gone too far.

She'd used her magic that time- something she'd requested to do and that had been happily agreed upon- as she'd kept the younger woman on the edge for the best part of two hours.

Originally, Emma had suggested they watch a movie. Noting the rather gory selection _not_ so surreptitiously nudged to the forefront of their 'choices', she had opted out and suggested some fun instead. Naturally, this suggestion had been eagerly accepted, and, she firmly believes it _had_ been a better use of two hours than watching some poor, deformed maniac chop up his victims in the way the Sheriff seems to find so inexplicably entertaining.

A _much_ better use of time.

The blonde had been well and truly flustered by the time the clock had struck midnight; having sent the Mayor over twice in this time, but begrudgingly agreeing to warn the darker woman any time she felt close to her own imminent release after the brunette had asked so nicely to begin with.

_"This is going to be intense..."_

Regina had warned after the final chime of the clock tower- allowing her magic to crackle visibly for a second to explain her meaning- and Emma had simply nodded; growling at her to just do it- _please_ \- already.

It had been a fair warning.

The brunette had watched on- intrigued- as she'd sent a bolt of power straight to the younger woman's core, and the latter had cried out and arched her back, before panting harshly with a small chuckle as she'd ridden out an obscurely strong wave of aftershock.

Wanting more, and- she supposes now- adopting that darker, more demanding persona that often seems to flicker within her mind when using her magic, she had purred her warning of 'and again, Miss Swan' without waiting for a response.

The Sheriff had yelled out once more- flailing limbs and whimpered breathing- and dark coals had glittered with hard lust as the younger woman had giggled nervously and moved her hand down between her legs as if to protect herself; her breathing labored and struggling to get her words out.

_"Holy, h-holy shit, that was-"_

But she'd trailed off as she'd taken in the hungry look the brunette had given her, and shaken her head weakly; stammering nervously

_"Fuck, 'Gina, I-I'm not sure I c-can, I-"_

And, the brunette supposes that if the Sheriff had simply told her 'no' she would have accepted a good thing and not pushed it, but... Emma _has_ always _liked_ being pushed, and she'd not been thinking straight enough herself by then to start querying grey areas.

So she'd done it again.

Harder.

And her sordid chuckling as her own wetness would soon need seeing to once again had been rich and indulgent, before it had tapered off into an anxious tittering; the younger woman having convulsed fitfully before sobbing quietly as though broken. Clasping salted cheeks in warm palms, she had stroked soft flesh with her thumbs nervously, repeating the blonde's name and trying to get a response.

 _"Hey! Hey, Emma! Emma!_ Hey _!"_

And her own cheeks had been damp when the Sheriff had finally switched fractured whimpering for weak laughter.

_"Oh god, are you okay!? Sweetheart, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, are you-"_

_"-I'm fine, I'm fine, it's all g-good."_

Emma had assured her breathlessly; patting her arm with a clumsy attempt at consolation.

 _"Just..._ Fuck _! That was... That was... M-maybe we just save that for special occasions... Like... Birthdays and Christmas or something... Something that only happens a couple of times a year!"_

She'd giggled exhaustedly, and the brunette had rolled her eyes and kissed the younger woman softly; shifting her position with careful consideration when the latter had flinched away from even the softest weight of her neglige brushing against her sex, and avoiding any further contact with a rather shameful smirk.

_"That's a deal, dear."_

Although, it hadn't been. Emma had assured her a little more firmly that she'd been fine once she'd gotten her breath back, but the incident had still worried the Queen. Not so much so that she _hadn't_ taken the blonde up on her offer... But, she'd used her hands rather than her magic; sending the Sheriff over again and again mercilessly to receive much the same panting and shaking, but with a more intimate understanding of just how much the younger woman could take.

It is something she has continued to strive and ascertain over the past year; and it has proven to be a highly enjoyable investigation.

Smirking, now, as she locks her gaze with Emma's and keeps the cruel- _beautifully_ cruel- pressure provided by the shower in place, she shakes her head as the blonde tries to slide down the wall and out of reach.

"That's not going to work, dearest."

She scolds amiably, and Emma offers her a sly grin and carries on trying anyway.

"Stand up properly and turn around."

Regina demands in her best regal voice, and green eyes flash with that familiar childish glint- the one the brunette always associates with a young girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar- as the blonde knows the game's up.

When Regina uses that voice; she obeys.

Doing so now- turning stiffly and letting out a small gasp as the Mayor presses her against frigid tiles and keeps her pinned in place with her body- Emma supposes she doesn't really _know_ what would happen if she were to disobey that voice.

Not in the bedroom, anyway.

That said, she doesn't really know why she'd _want_ to.

"Shit!"

A snarled hiss through clenched teeth as the darker woman keeps her held firmly in place and holds the torturous jet of water facing up between splayed legs.

"I trust you're learning your lesson, little elf?"

Regina smiles into sodden gold, and Emma nods, although she isn't _entirely_ sure she remembers what that lesson had been in the first place.

It just feels good- _so_ good- and she bites back a cry as her knees buckle with her release and she slips gracelessly down to land in an untidy, soggy heap at the Mayor's feet.

Laughing breathlessly as she shakes her head at the rather unconvincing bemused look Regina tries to give her, she pushes herself onto her knees as the spraying shower-head dangles forgotten, beating down on white enamel.

"Emma..."

The Queen hisses as the younger woman makes her intent clear and places her palms against peaked hipbones to press the darker woman against the tiles, and the latter glances up at her with a smirk as she coaxes slim legs gently apart and tastes the result their little game has had on the Mayor.

"We need to go down..."

Regina tries to reason as she runs her hand distractedly through heavy, wet curls.

"I _am_ going down."

Emma giggles, and the brunette sighs with mock irritation before the sound becomes a broken moan as sharp teeth graze her clit with obscure gentleness.

"I mean down to do presents, you idiot-"

"-Giving you one now, Madame Mayor-"

"-I mean-"

"-I _know_ what you mean, and this would go a lot faster if you didn't keep making me _talk_!"

The blonde scolds, and the darker woman chuckles breathlessly as she closes her eyes and opens her legs just a little wider.

"I never _demanded_ a response. In fact, I kind of hoped you'd- oh!... _God!_ "

Her fist tightens on damp tresses as the other closes down around her breast and her thighs twitch tellingly.

"Hoped I'd what?"

Emma grins, and Regina shakes her head as she keeps her eyes closed and her hand pressed sordidly to her chest. Laughing quietly, the blonde pushes herself up- offering a teasing squeeze of her hand between parted legs to garner a jerk and an angry hiss to watch herself- before climbing from the shower stall, shivering, as it suddenly dawns on her how cold it is when not beneath the spray of hot water.

"So, do _you_ want to cunningly go down first to dispel any traumatising thoughts, or shall I?"

She smirks over at the Mayor, and Regina smiles back and suggests it might look less suspicious if she goes downstairs before the often tardy blonde.

* * *

"So, how'd Madame Mayor like the necklace I picked out for her?"

Ruby grins, and Emma rolls her eyes as she swipes her finger through a lavish helping of cinnamon dusted cream.

"Oh, come on, you didn't do shit. That was totally on me... Kind of... And it's not _my_ fault I'm no good with stuff like that..."

"Meaning, you know that without my help, Regina would now be trying to find a way to feed some hideous piece of crap down the garbage disposal."

"She has _magic_... And she liked it."

The blonde grumbles irritably; sighing when the waitress responds to this affirmation with a gleeful smirk.

"Ah, so you're in Her Highness's _good_ books now, then?... Gonna get yourself your _own_ little present tonigh-"

"-Can we change the subject?!"

The raven headed woman snaps as she makes her way over to her kitchen island with some difficulty as she only has a couple of weeks to go before her due date.

"Seconded."

Emma nods with a blush.

"Thirded."

David growls from the corner, and Ruby laughs as she mutters in Emma's ear

"Objection!"

But offers the Charmings an angelic smile.

"Anyway, what about you guys? I thought you had some big news or something which meant we had to meet here?"

The blonde smiles at her parents, and the waitress sighs as she shakes her head and leans back on one of the old barstools with a smirk.

"If it's that you're pregnant, Emma and I guessed that already."

"Observant."

Snow chuckles- rubbing her belly- before turning to David and nodding secretively. Smiling back, he excuses himself and disappears behind the curtains of their bedroom.

"What's going on, guys?"

Emma asks curiously

"Well, we weren't really sure what to get you, and I guess this is maybe more for Henry, but, we thought _you_ might like a little friend, too."

"How's that?"

"I'm not sure if you can put him in with Quimb, so we got you a separate hutch too, just in case. Say hello to... Whatever you two decide to call him."

Charming smiles as he comes out baring a small cage housing a rather inquisitive guinea pig poking its nose through the bars.

"Awesome!"

Emma grins, before sighing and glancing back up at David as he stands with his hand rested on her shoulder.

"And it's _three_ of us. You _know_ that."

Shaking his head, the long-ago shepherd boy raises his palms in defense and explains honestly

"I was referring to you and Regina. Henry might enjoy this little one just as much as you will, but _he's_ not about to spend several hours bickering over names and snide references."

David chuckles, and Mary Margaret nods in agreement.

" _We're_ still surprised you got away with Quimby!"

"Yeah... Well... I have my ways."

Emma grins, before blushing when her mother goes swiftly about stirring her herbal tea in quite a frenzied manner; mumbling sheepishly

"Didn't mean it like that..."

Snow nods curtly in response, but seems suddenly less frantic about her beverage and offers a kind smile.

"You couldn't convince her to come over for a drink?"

"Oh, she actually seemed pretty on board, but, I dunno... Some kind of turkey disaster or something."

"Mmm... I'm sure."

The schoolteacher sighs, and Emma nibbles her lip uncomfortably, before sighing in relief as she is rescued from the awkward tension by the quiet beep of her phone. Glancing down at the message, she raises a brow, before looking back up and announcing with something akin to shock

"Actually, she's invited you guys- you too, Deputy- round ours for wine and... A-and something soft for Mary Margaret."

She informs her curious audience; swiftly ad-libbing Regina's original wording of 'and a juice-box for the large one.'

In all honesty, she supposes she's more shocked than she should be; Regina having confided in her at some point in early spring that it was _more_ of a chore distancing herself from the blonde's family than simply- begrudgingly- accepting that they existed. _Not_ that this discovery meant she was about to call upon Snow White and suggest a coffee morning, she'd hastily gone on to explain, but, she had agreed that if she happened to come across the Fair Queen while in town or in the Diner, she would at least say hello.

And she had been thanked for this less than enthused offer _quite_ pleasantly.

"Shall we come by after lunch?"

Snow asks with a similar note of surprise, and Emma shrugs as she says she's sure that's fine; tapping back a reply with a small nudge to Ruby's ribs as the waitress peeks over her shoulder with a grin.

_I'll suggest around two, is that cool? By the way... I love you._

* * *

_I love you._

Regina smiles as she reads the blonde's reply before glancing up at Henry who stands with his face splattered with flour and his hands caked in dough with a politely curious expression.

"Mom? What is it?"

"Oh, just Emma being a soppy little so and so."

She chuckles, and the boy shakes his head as he goes back to work.

"Emma's not soppy."

"No, of _course_ not."

She smirks, and her son glances back at her sternly with his best attempt at mimicking the blonde.

"If she hears you say that, you're done for."

"Oh, and what is _she_ going to do? I'm the Evil Queen!"

"Not anymore."

Henry smiles, and Regina sighs as she nibbles at one of the cookies from the previous batch made.

"No, I suppose not."

"I mean, you invited Snow White and Prince Charming round for drinks! And a wolf!"

Though, he supposes Ruby is more of a regular in their household; often accompanying the Sheriff home after work to share a beer or two. Something which Regina had originally allowed with ill-hidden irritation, but nowadays even sometimes elects to join in with.

"Indeed..."

The brunette sighs, and yes, she supposes she has changed for good, but she negates to point out to Henry that she has invited the blonde's parents round more for Emma than out of any civil expectation or festive cheer.

Because she knows.

She knows what the Sheriff refuses to admit about the little one getting ready to enter the world any day now. What Emma refuses to even _talk_ about.

_"It's exciting!"_

Has been the party line, but Regina hasn't been fooled in the slightest, and is unsure whether Henry has either.

Because, this new baby will be what the Savior never _could_ have been to the two idiots. And- while she knows it's wrong to think in such a way, or surely she would allow the topic to come up for debate- this truth hurts the Sheriff in a way the Queen can only silently acknowledge and try to make light of.

The only time they've even come _close_ to discussing the matter, Emma had used the word 'replacement' and that had been all she'd needed to hear, despite the blonde's vehement declarations that she was 'totally cool with it all' seconds later.

A replacement for the child that is all grown up and unable to give the Charmings what they want, though Regina knows- however much she might profess not to care- that this fact hurts the other two just as much as it does the Sheriff.

So, she has gone out of her way to try and make nice.

To try and allow as much 'family bonding' as she can abide, because, all she _really_ wants is for everyone to be happy.

_I will destroy your happiness if it is the last thing I do._

These words come back to her suddenly, and she blinks in surprise before chuckling darkly; shaking her head with a smile when Henry glances at her inquisitively, and getting up to pour herself a drink.

"Are you almost done? We'll put that batch in the oven, and then how about a game of chess by the fire?"

"Yeah!

The boy beams, and while it has been a whole _year_ since things changed here in town, he is still able to take a moment now and then to appreciate that fact.

After all, he is elated- still- to be able to spend time with Emma, and while he respects that she's explained a dozen times now how things had been with Neal and herself all those years ago and why she'd not been able to keep him, he doesn't imagine _many_ kids could ask for a nicer parent, _however_ much she might sigh that she's no good at this or that. She loves him, and he loves her right back with almost _frightening_ intensity, and, he can't think of _many_ things that could top that, but, perhaps the _best_ part of the curse breaking and the younger woman moving in, is the fact that he has his mother back.

Regina as she _had_ been.

Only, so much happier and without that ever present cloak- even as a young child he had felt its presence- of a dark secret tainting the very air in their house.

There is a lot of laughter now that echoes through the rooms of the mansion that had once been devoid of that sound.

Scooping dollops of batter from the bowl and onto an oven tray, he smiles, sharing the brunette's evil smirk as Regina suggests that they might leave the pots and pans in the sink so that the Sheriff can partake in a part of family baking also.

"Come on, show me how you've improved by beating Emma, and then I need to get changed to receive guests."

* * *

"Any decisions on the name?"

Ruby asks curiously as she leans against the spotless counter of the Mayor's kitchen.

"Nope."

Emma grins, shooting a mischievous look at Regina who stands hip to hip with her- sipping delicately at a glass of red wine- and the darker woman sighs theatrically.

"I have yet to find a suitable adversary for Quimby."

"Isn't the Sheriff or cop guy or whatever on that show an idiot, too?"

The waitress inquires; wracking her memory, and the blonde glowers at her irritably, explaining

"Yeah, but we're _not_ calling our guinea pig Wiggum. The Mayor thing is funny because he's all fancy and tends to hang with a- smoking hot, I might add- blonde or two. Wiggum's just an idiot obsessed with donuts and stuff."

"... I'm still waiting for you to get to your point as to why that's _not_ fitting, dear."

Regina purrs, and the Sheriff rolls her eyes and hisses at her to shut up, before addressing her parents.

"What about _you_ guys? Any ideas, yet?"

"Some, but as we've _told_ you, the tradit-"

"-yeah, yeah, the tradition is that you don't tell us yet. You know, I was thinking about all that, though... And, like... Why _did_ you call me Emma? If Rumple warned you all this shit was gonna happen to 'Emma', why not call me Jane or something?"

"Ah, yes, that well known, most _popular_ of names back in the Enchanted Forest..."

Charming grins, before shaking his head with a shrug.

"It doesn't work like that, Emma. Magic's a little more involved than just altering a name."

"Not true-"

Regina interrupts

"-Names are _remarkably_ powerful."

"So then-"

"-But, calling you something else would have changed nothing in this case. Believe me... I've checked."

She assures the Sheriff, and Emma sighs as she helps herself to another beer.

"Fine, but you guys better call it something _good_. Not like Snow White or Bo Peep or anything."

Snow offers a playful scowl, before pointing to the waitress and scoffing

"Or, like, _Red_ or anything?"

"Hey!"

"Nah, Red's alright."

The blonde shrugs, before catching the irritable look the Queen shoots down at her wine and offering the darker woman a small, placating smile.

"Anyway, we'd better leave you three to it, I left the turkey in the oven but it will need basting, and I need a nap."

Snow smiles, and the others nod and say their respective farewells; leaving just the two women- one dark, one fair- standing side by side looking out the kitchen window across the lawn to where their son feeds handfuls of grass through the mesh of a modest little hutch.

"That was nice..."

Emma murmurs, and the Queen nods with a small smile.

"Good."

"You couldn't _resist_ showing me up though, could you?"

"Excuse me?"

"I leave to go out and you're all pretty and suave in your skirt and sweater, then I come back to _this_!"

The Sheriff teases as she runs an appreciative hand over the fine silk of the brunette's expensive shirt.

"Well, I dressed as one does when they're expecting company."

Regina sniffs arrogantly, with a pointed smirk at the jeans and sweater worn by the blonde.

"Bullshit."

"And by 'show you up' are you _honestly_ pretending that you would have dressed any differently had you known I was getting changed?"

"Maybe."

Emma grins, and the brunette chuckles as she shakes her head in amiable disbelief.

"Such lies!"

"I could have worn some sort of christmas ensemble!"

"Mmm, you mean like your little ensemble _last_ year?"

Regina purrs into soft tresses, and the younger woman smirks as she trails her fingers up over the soft swell of the Mayor's ass to squeeze playfully at her hip.

"Sadly, we threw that out."

She laughs, and the brunette joins in as she regards the blonde intently with blown pupils.

"Well, that skimpy little set was hardly fit for use once we were done, dear."

Emma blushes as she recalls her cruel teasing of the Mayor and her declaration that the darker woman would just have to _wait_ before opening all her presents, only to be met by a low growl of 'just a peek, then...' and the harsh sound of ripping material as Regina had found a way around _that_ little loophole and entered her swiftly through a ragged tear in sheer fabric.

"And whose fault was _that_?!"

"Yours. No one likes a tease."

"Actually, I think you like it when I tease you just _fine_..."

"Hmmm... You have your moments..."

The brunette grins, and the Sheriff raises a brow threateningly at the former's coquettish attitude and murmurs quietly

"Don't give me ideas. I'll be _more_ than happy to share the last little present you bought me again."

Dark eyes flicker, but Regina shakes her head; knowing the younger woman refers to the discreet little remote control vibrator purchased after some red-cheeked deliberation during her last outing over the town-line. Yet another gadget bought to aid her research into just how close and for how long she could bring the blonde to the edge before disaster struck. A fun game, but not one she would like reversed.

No.

As with any couple, they each enjoy and suffer their own bodies and turn ons and reactions, and what can keep the Sheriff on a beautifully cruel high for the best part of an hour, will have her crying out in minutes; deliciously sensitive and coming hard and fast when they've played with toys designed to overstimulate.

She had originally instructed the blonde to insert her little gift before a pleasant dinner at Granny's, followed by a chilly walk in the woods. Emma had begged- just once- once they'd neared the troll bridge- up until then keeping her cool with remarkable talent, save for the odd blush and clench of her jaw- and whispered needfully that her underwear was no longer good for anything much. Shrugging indifferently, the Mayor had simply suggested she remove it if it was bothering her so much, but had made no further steps to put an end to her slow game until they'd finally made it home, thanked Ruby for babysitting, and retired to bed.

Emma had suggested similar fun the following evening when they'd been sat down in the drawing room sharing a bottle of Merlot, but, after just five minutes of wearing the evil little device, Regina had begged an end to the game; uncomfortably wet and lying on her back before the smiling blonde with her stomach twitching and her hips moving of their own accord while her words had been broken up by small moans. As has almost always been the case, the Sheriff had taken swift pity on her; slipping free torturous metal and moving down the sofa to clean up the glistening result of their game using the slow, careful swipes of her tongue that have always been much more to the brunette's liking.

"Behave yourself and help me with the potatoes."

The Mayor hisses now, and Emma shrugs and does as she's told, though her cheeks still carry a bright spot of color. Smirking as her own excitement has been stoked, Regina joins the blonde as the latter washes the bag of Maris Pipers in the sink, and peels them once they're passed over; watching the black flashes of intricate lines at the Sheriff's wrists as she works.

Gold's gift to the younger woman several months ago.

The little imp had returned to Storybrooke a couple of weeks after they had themselves, but with all the commotion of post-curse life, had managed to keep a wide berth of the two women. Something that had proven a little more difficult when- along with several _other_ less savory discoveries to come to light- the small matter of what Regina had threatened was being kept from him had come up.

It had been a tense situation- perhaps the _most_ uncomfortable time in the Mayor's own household since explaining the truth of her reign- but, in the end, what she had begged of the Saviour to believe had been true.

Belle hadn't been _harmed_.

She had been kept shut away and confused, and, this much had come up _several_ times following Regina's tentative admission of what she might have stashed away below the hospital, but in the end, it had been something Emma had known she'd not be able to fully _understand_ , and she had chosen to simply accept this fact.

Gold had been a little less lenient.

Still, his anger had been shot down by the Sheriff who had accompanied Regina to the little man's shop, and she had suggested there had to _finally_ be an end to whatever revenge was simmering between the Queen and the Sorcerer; showing the imp her wrists and asking him if he couldn't just _enjoy_ what he had rather than always punishing for the past.

He'd agreed.

Begrudgingly.

And that had been all that the two of them had had to say to one another for a couple of months.

Still, eventually, monosyllabic conversation had turned into a tentative back and forth, and, by the time the Queen had come bursting into his shop on a blisteringly hot summer's morning with her eyes wide and her nerves causing her voice to shake, he and the blonde had been somewhat back on genial terms.

_"Something bad has happened..."_

Regina had blurted out, proceeding to relay what she could remember of Emma's own explanation of the events that had led to the younger woman returning home bloody and pale and cradling her arm.

_"I fixed it... I fixed it, but it's a wolf's bite. It's-"_

But Gold had told her to quieten down, and had followed her briskly back to the mansion; the realisation that there existed any sort of bad blood between them only occurring to him while mounting the steps, as, with Belle back in his life and his tentative, baby steps over the phone with his son, he'd had little reason to give the Queen and her Saviour any real thought for a while.

He'd done what he could, and had given the younger woman a tonic to be taken before the next full moon without asking for anything in return, for which she had thanked him amiably enough, and offered him a drink.

He'd accepted out of simple courtesy, but his eyes had fallen again and again upon the cruel marks circling her wrists.

In January, Regina had attempted to eliminate that crude scarring herself to no avail. He'd known this, as the Mayor had informed him of the fact bitterly when discussing Belle. She'd snarled at him of how she'd tried to get rid of those curious white bracelets that made her heart pound whenever she'd look at them.

_"You can't eradicate a cursed injury."_

He'd explained to her then, just as he'd explained this same thing to Emma when checking over the scar left by Ruby's bite.

For that is what it had been. Those scars at the young woman's wrists. In the end, magic is a powerful and elusive entity, and it had been more than just a case of a useless piece of metal cutting into the blonde's arms. It had been the beginnings to an end, and for this reason- he believes- those scars will remain visible for the rest of the Saviour's natural life.

But, he _had_ been sorry.

He'd used her to get what he'd wanted, and- while he'd accepted long ago that this was simply his way of living- he had spared Emma no real dislike at _any_ point during their relationship, and those crude circlets had weighed on his mind now and then in a way many greater travesties never had.

He'd offered her an alternative.

Offered her something beautiful instead of those damning marks.

Had decorated the insides of skinny wrists with elaborate lines and beauty, so that now- if one were to find themselves glimpsing anything and taking a second look- they might find themselves drawn to delicate tattoos rather than slices of scar tissue.

Emma had been thrilled with the result.

The Queen too, but not so much out of any real liking for body art, but rather... What Rumple had done really _was_ beautiful.

It's still never quite served to hide the pain suffered in that little apartment what seems like a lifetime ago.

But, it's an improvement.

"I'll finish up in here, if you go sort out anything for Wiggum before it gets dark."

"Alright, cool... Hey! We're _not_ calling-"

"-We are. Now, go on. Make yourself useful."

She smirks as she gives the blonde a small push towards the door, and the latter glares at her with a rather sorry attempt at irritation, before disappearing out into the cold to find Henry.

"Good girl."

Regina mutters under her breath with a smile as she seasons the potatoes and moves them into the oven.

* * *

Has Henry gone upstairs?

Regina enquires as Emma enters the drawing room with a couple of glasses of cognac and joins her by the fire.

"Out like a light. I went to go clean the wrapping paper off our bed and checked in on him on the way back down. That kid sure can snore!"

Regina chuckles knowingly and accepts both the glass the blonde holds out to her and the kiss brushed gently against her lips. Careful to keep from spilling her drink, she wraps her free arm around the younger woman's shoulders to hold her in place and deepens that tender kiss passionately; letting out a low, appreciative hum of encouragement when Emma's own spare hand finds the soft swell of her breast.

"Merry Christmas, Your Highness!"

Emma laughs a little breathlessly once she is forced to stop for some air, and the brunette's eyes glitter as she purrs back much the same.

"Hurry up and finish your drink."

"Why the rush?"

Regina smirks with feigned ignorance, and Emma sighs but plays along with their little game; shrugging and pulling out her phone as she knocks back her glass.

"No reason."

"Hmmm... I'm _sure_... And put your _phone_ away. It's rude-"

"-yeah, one second. I've just got to call this girl, though. She's totally fucking hot- _you'd_ like her- and I happen to know she's up for pretty much anything, so... As it's _Christmas_..."

" _What?_!"

The Mayor snarls, before frowning as her own cell vibrates quietly in her pocket. Raising a brow, she offers the Sheriff a withering look that does little to hide her smile.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

Emma asks innocently, and Regina pulls out her phone with her gaze firmly trained on cool, green eyes, and flips it open with a sigh.

"Yes?"

"Upstairs. Now."

Chuckling quietly as she watches Emma take her leave, she calls softly that she'll be right up once she's dampened the fire.

Waiting for the soft sound of footsteps to grace the landing above, she makes her way over to her desk and pulls a small bag from the drawer; slipping out delicate lace that had seemed extortionately _expensive_ given how _little_ one was receiving for their money.

Removing her clothes, she pads over to the fire to put it out, before slipping into scant lingerie and tipping back her own drink.

Creeping up the stairs and into the bedroom, she pushes the open-mouthed Sheriff down onto the bed- the latter midway through pulling off her jeans- and straddles her possessively; grinding red lace with its festive white trim against plain, grey cotton and tasting the younger woman hotly; imagining she will never grow tired of this particular indulgence.

"Let's see how long _this_ set lasts."

"A dangerous game, Madame Mayor."

"It better be... Your move."


End file.
